


The Quiet One

by MalicMalic, vrskaandrea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alec/Logan DarkAngel vibe, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Kissing, Blow Jobs, Cabins, Cold, Dean Winchester Has Broken Bones, Dean/Tony NCIS vibe, Falling In Love, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Gentle Kissing, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Hurt Dean Winchester, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Solitude (Elder Scrolls), Taking Care Of Dean Winchester, Virgin Michael, Walks In The Woods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 28,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27178645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalicMalic/pseuds/MalicMalic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vrskaandrea/pseuds/vrskaandrea
Summary: Following the success of my previous Michean (that's Michael/Dean) story called One of a kind, I bring you another, completely unrelated story with the same pairing.
Relationships: Michael & Dean Winchester, Michael/Dean Winchester
Comments: 216
Kudos: 53





	1. Walk the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> In this story Michael takes a vessel that looks like the young Michael Weatherly.  
> Special thanks to vrskaandrea who is helping me out with this one.
> 
> Okay, so this new story is set in season 15, where exactly doesn't matter. What is important (and SPOILERS!) is that Lilith never encountered Michael and Adam, they the boys killed her and that they were wise enough to figure out a way to trap God, opened Purgatory, found the Leviathan blossom and failed at entrapping Chuck. This Michael is fresh out of Hell (read Cage) and wants nothing to do with the Winchesters or God or Apocalypse or any of that crap.
> 
> But since when does anyone get what they want?

Branches snapped under his feet as Michael landed in a park, right under an old Oak tree. He still remembered when it was nothing but a small sprout, weak and tender, exposed and left to fend for itself. Out of many things his Father created, nature was the one thing Michael ever really liked. He would spend hours just watching a carnation bloom. Or a baby woodpecker hatch from its egg.

Of course, he always snuck out to go that, Heaven's forbid he was seen doing this. Enjoying something. Him, the almighty warrior, God's second in command, the archangel Michael.

"Pfff..." He puffed at the memories. For eons he had to put this mask and act the part his Father appointed to him, a part he never really wanted to play, but wouldn't say No. Not to his father. Not to the supreme being that created him and this beautiful thing he called Earth. He work so hard and Michael watched, amazed and enchanted by the various variations of green on leaves, how not one was the same as the other, and how there were billions upon billions of them.

But he had other things to think about now.

" _We could stick around for a few hours, I don't mind._ " Adam's voice echoed in his head and Michael sighed. He would love nothing more then to relish in the warmth of the sun and listen to a nearby stream pass by, each water droplet creating a symphony no man could ever hear. Or maybe to scent the flowers that were just about to bloom, maybe see a dung beatle roll dung into round ball.

" _No. I promised you I will let you go, and I have to keep that promise, but to do that, I have to fulfill your condition_." Michael replied in his head, never once speaking up, even though they were alone.

" _Yeah, but you don't have to do it right now_." Adam replied knowing he might as well be talking to the wind. When it comes to Adam as his vessel, he is the most caring person Adam has ever met. Every move, every action, so considerate and protective, caring and kind. Michael might not want to admit it, but he loved mankind, with all it's quirks and flaws and he wouldn't generally want to hurt any of them.

He really should apologise to Bobby Singer for blowing him up, it has been eating Michael for decades down in the Cage.

Suddenly, something in his ears resonated and Michael looked up to the mountain in the distance. That just might be it. The thing he was searching for. Whales of a dying soul as it prepared to leave the body, uncertain yet as to where it will end up. Perhaps Michael could help with that?

In a blink of an eye, the archangel disappeared out of the park and appeared thousands of miles away, in a deep dark forest where no normal human being could see properly. But Michael could. He could see a fallen man, clutching his chest and fighting to breathe, a reaper standing above him, ready to take his soul wherever the man believed it should go.

The man couldn't see the reaper. But he could see Michael's silhouette as the archangel approached him.

"What... What are you?" The man asked. Curious question to ask with his dying breath. One would assume a person in his position would ask for help. Without even making contact, Michael could see the man's entire life as if it was a few pages of a book. He could see the treacherous path he was sent on, knowing only pain and sorrow, at yet, helping others. Not because of revenge, like some from his branch did. But because he could. Because he chose to help.

A true hunter.

One that blames himself for losses he could not help, people he had to kill to save others, choices he had to make. Choices he believed are enough to deem him to Hell. And if a soul believed it belonged on Hell, then that is where it was headed. Just ask Lilly Sunder.

Michael's eyes glowed with grace, then he showed the man who he was and what he was offering. He offered to send the soul to Heaven and asked if he could inhabit his body after, all without actually speaking. When the man huffed at him, telling him he was no better then a crossroads demon, Michael showed him that if he wished to be forgiven for his sins, he would be, regardless if he allowed his body to be used after his death. One does not exclude the other.

The hunter did not see that coming.

"So I can tell you to go screw yourself and tell you to take me to heaven, and you would? Just like that?"

Michael nodded. Both knew that Michael could even heal him and save his life, but both knew it was the man's time. So the hunter agreed and the forest was engulfed in bright light, only for a moment before it toned down, leaving behind two men standing.

Michael, now in a new vessel nodded at Adam and with a flick of his wrist, he send him home. Then he took out the hunter's pocket knife, lifted his shirt and started carving a sigil into his body, on the side of his stomach, just above the left hip. A cloaking sigil, one that would hide his grace from everything, but also contain it within his body, rendering it useless and inaccessible.

Rendering Michael into a human.


	2. To be human and to feel

It only took Michael a few days to adjust to the new situation, to get accustomed to being human, needing to eat and sleep and urinate. The first day he slept through, feeling so tired all the time, but still so amazed by the feeling of falling asleep. Dreams were a lot more fuzzy and he couldn't remember most of what he dreamt about, but he didn't really care. He just loved the feeling of the warmth of the cabin, one he took over from his vessel, and he loved to snuggle under the mountain of blankets and let his consciousness drift off to sleep.

The second day he felt hunger and if it weren't for the memories left behind by his vessel, he wouldn't have figured out he needed sustenance. For the first time in his life he could taste the marmalade and how good it felt to drown it down with milk. The hunter had enough supplies here to last him though the end of the winter, stored meat of rabbits and deer he hunted. It seemed like he wanted to detach himself from the real hunting, from the monsters and the supernatural, at least for a while.

Searching the memories, Michael was curious to learn that the hunter knew how to make bread, and a bit of other complex meals and he decided once he rested enough, he would try to produce some of those things. In fact, the hunters memories were so helpful, Michael relied more and more on those and on some basic instincts he started to develop that weren't there before, not like this.

The more days passed, the more that grace-blistering tingling sensation was toning down until it was nothing but an itch around the sigil he carved into his hip. The sigil wound didn't bleed much and healed fast, eventually coming down to look like a tattoo or a very elaborate birth mark. The more time passed, the less Michael could sense the world around him and the more he could actually feel it.

It was both amazing and terrifying at the same time.

It was scary to learn how fragile a human body actually was, how a simple paper cut or a stubbed toe really hurt, the latter bringing tears to his eyes. How tiring it was to do simple bring in fire-wood or shoveling away the snow, not to mention how cold it felt.

But then it was also gratifying, the smell and the warmth of the crackling wood in the fire place, the sense of pride and accomplishment of a clear porch. A soothing sensation of an anti-bruise creme or just a simple feel of a soft fluffy towel against his face.

Despite all the flaws, Michael was actually starting to enjoy being a human. At least it kept him away from the whole power struggle, apocalypse, other angels and all that. Well... That's it until trouble came a knocking. Or busted through his front door that is.

A man big and strong, coved in blood, dirt and snow came crashing through his doors, panting hard, his eyes darting all over the place before they laid on Michael.

"Please. You gotta help me... There is a mad man out there, he is after me. Look he even shot me." The man said, his expression pleading, but his eyes too dark to be truthful. Something was off. Yes, it was true, he was shot in the shoulder, the wound bleeding. Michael did a quick evaluation of his state, and of everything else too. The man crossed the salt line without a problem, stepped over the carpet-covered devil's trap, and that ruled out a few things but it still felt off.

Michael carefully stepped beside the man and looked out, the sun was setting and it was getting darker. He could see the trail the man left behind, snow disturbed and with spots of blood and dirt everywhere. These woods should be monster clear, but something was telling Michael that this wasn't just about two guys having a fight that ended bloody.

Suddenly Michael felt his... No. His vessel's instincts scream at him for turning his back to the unknown possible threat and he whipped around just too see the man's yellow eyes coming at him, his claw-like fingers reaching out and grabbing him, pushing him against the wall. A growl left his throat and Michael realized he was face to face with a werewolf.

And he was as powerless as a human.

No. Not as a human. Not that powerless. He was afterall in a hunter's vessel and as he struggled against the much more stronger were, he remembered a few things. Silver could hurt a werewolf. Werewolves heal fast. Decapitation was a good way to end them. Or burn them alive.

Seeing the blood ooze out of the gunshot wound, it made Michael question what the were said, and taking his chance, Michael stopped trying to wedge those claws off of him and pressed on the bullet wound. The wolf growled in pain, then hissed as the wound seemed to heat up, smoke coming out of it. Silver bullet. Who ever was after him was a hunter.

Using the monster's momentary distraction, Michael pushed him away, reached for the hatchet he had by the door, lifted it above his head as if he was going to chop a wood piece and plunged it down onto the wolf's head, splitting it in two. Yeah, that worked too.

It took Michael a few minutes to come to his senses, figure out what just happened and for his racing heart to calm and stop pumping adrenaline through his system. His living room was a mess, a dead werewolf bleeding out on his floor, brain mass and scull fragments all over the place. His front door was completely busted and snow was starting to fall inside, a chilly wind making Michael shiver.

Okay. He needed to deal with this, and deal with it quick. Michael took a deep breath, grabbed the dead werewolf by the legs and with great effort he managed to pull him outside and just leave him in the snow. He could deal with that later. Right now, he needed a door.

Luckily the bedroom door was the same size and shape, only a lot thinner, but they would have to do for now. With a grunt, he took of what was left of the front door off the hinges and put up the bedroom door, testing it and nodding to himself when he saw them fit. He could build into thickness to keep the cold out. But he could deal with that later.

Because right now, there was a hunter in these woods, probably hurt and maybe lost and Michael needed to see if he could find him or her. Putting on a thick coat, he stepped out with a flashlight and a handgun filled with silver bullets in case there were more of those things out there. Taking the trail the were left behind, Michael worked his way back to where the fight took place.

It was getting really dark and the small glow of his flashlight wasn't helping much, but he could still see the disturbed snow, clawed tree trunks, broken branches and blood. Searching for any sign of life he almost missed the body that was lying face down in a book on the ground.

Michael gasped at the sight of a man, motionless and bloodied, his clothes torn, and his left leg definitely broken, a bone sticking out at an odd angle. The hunter instincts immediately kicked it, the need to help grater then himself and he reached for the body, determined to do whatever was in his human power to help him if he's still alive.

When he set his eyes on the face of a fallen hunter before him, Michael flinched in surprise. Out of all the people in this world, for him to encounter this human again must have been some cruel cosmical joke, there was no other explanation.

Still, seeing his perfect vessel all bruised and battered, broken and hurt, something inside of him cracked, and a sad, sorrowful feeling washed over him. No matter what, he knew he couldn't just leave him here, there was no way he would make it out alive, no way he would survive a night in the woods.

So Michael did the only thing he could. He took off his thick coat and laid it down, then dragged the hurt hunter on top of it. He used the two sleeves and wrapped them around the body for warmth and protection against the ground, then used the belt of it, tied it around the legs and started the slow process of dragging a man slightly more heavier then he was back to his cabin.

Michael wouldn't leave a man to die, even if that man was Dean Winchester, the biggest pain in the ass Michael ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vrskaandrea: Pun intended?! Lol.


	3. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a medical expert of any kind, but even I know that some of the things I wrote were most definitely wrong, especially the order of treatment, but for the sake of the story I am sticking to it all.

Michael needed to really reconsider his logistics problem. If he put Dean on the bed, the hunter would bleed all over it as Michael dressed his wounds, but if he put him on the table, he would not only get a better access to his body, but a mess that would be easier to clean. Of course if he put him on the table and immobilized his leg, it might be a problem to move him later, because the wound might open up and then he would have the mess on the bed all over again.

The archangel signed.

This would be so much easier if he had access to his grace. He would simply swap his hand over Dean's body and heal him with only a strain of a thought.

But he chose to do this, and now he has to face all that it brought. The good and the bad. And sure, the hunter was heavy, but at the end of the day, he might just have saved his life and that... Well that should be rewarding all by itself, right?

There was of course no ulterior motive here. Not like he felt guilty over something or anything like that. No. It was simply a good deed. Something he could do, so he did. Simple as that.

Except there was nothing simple about dragging Dean a mile across the woods, trying to bring him up the porch stairs without knocking his head on every step and now up on the bed. In the end, Michael decided the bed would be the best option, if he simply put a tarp under him as he fixed him up.

Dragging Dean over to the bed, Michael took a moment to catch his breath and gather his strength, looking over the hunter. He was bit pale, but with a red blush, probably from the cold. Still it indicated his blood loss might not be too bad. His mouth was slightly ajar, his head lifted up and his neck exposed and it made him seem so vulnerable.

And to think that this man put a wrench in a 3 millennia old plan.

Michael took a deep breath, figuring how best to tackle this situation. Then he stepped over the hunter, his feet right next to the man's hips. He reached down, slid his hands underneath him, grabbing just under the shoulder blades to lift him up. His hands gripped the tight muscles there and he used all his vessel's strength to hoist him up, grunting and barely managing. He brought him up just enough to be able to set his upper body on the bed, but not having anticipated the hunter's weight to be that great, and not counting in the gravity and his own poor stance, as he deposited Dean on the bed, he almost came down on top of him.

Lucky for him, his vessel still had it's good reflexes, and Michael's hand snapped, landing right next to Dean's head, holding him just above the hunter's face. Surprised and caught in the moment, Michael froze. Dean stirred, just a bit, a moan of pain escaping his lips, his brows furrowing up for a moment before he relaxed again, falling deeper into the unconsciousness.

Being this up close, Michael couldn't help but notice the hunter had freckles. He had never noticed that before, and now that he had a moment to observe him, he couldn't help but think how he was still so young and how the life made him look old and tired. How all his troubles wore him down, but at the same time made him stronger. A thing to be admired.

Michael rose back up, then as gently and as carefully as he could lifted Dean's broken right leg first, then the other one too. He took a deep breath and walked around the bed, to take a better look at the broken bone. Dean had a few deep gashes over his chest, probably made by the werewolf's claws, and a few scrapes on his arms too, but nothing too serious. The broken bone was what worried Michael the most.

Choosing the best course of action, he brought some supplies from the kitchen pantry and two straight wooden planks with some rope from the shed. Knowing that working on the broken leg might wake the hunter, he chose to work on the deep gash on his chest that was still bleeding a bit before he would focus in the leg.

Michael managed to remove Dean's jacket and flannel button up shirt in one go, without much fuss, and then tore what remained of his Led Zeppelin shirt and undershirt, that were already torn from the werewolves claws. Michael's vessel was a bit more skinner and just a inch or two shorter, but his clothes will still fit the hunter after... He could dwell about it later. Right now he needed to clean the wound.

Looking over the man's bare torso Michael couldn't help but think how soft and smooth his chest looked. Not much of that manly hair, only pure, tender skin. Luckily, the claw mark went right past his anti-possession tattoo, not breaking it, so Dean was safe on that front. Michael picked up a cotton ball, put some peroxide on it and started cleaning the gash. Best to his knowledge, it didn't seem like it was going to need stitches, so he made sure he cleaned it good before setting butterfly stitches.

Next up was the leg. Michael had no choice but to rip the jeans and carefully remove them, trying not to pay attention to the white briefs with red hearts over them. His hands would ever so often brush over the skin of Dean's calf or thigh, and it sent some very odd tingles through the archangel's body.

Was it the grace acting up? Did it feel it's perfect vessel, does it know it is him?

But no, the grace fell dormant, it has been for weeks now, it should not be able to awake, not with this, if it hasn't done so when Michael was attacked by the werewolf. But if not his grace, then what was it?

Michael really needed to stop thinking and stop messing around. The wound on Dean's leg might have stopped bleeding, but it was still gaping open, the bone sticking out and he really needed to snap that in place and then fix the wooden planks so he doesn't move the leg and finally stitch him up.

Michael took a deep breath as he set his hands on either side of the open fracture and closed his eyes for only a moment. The very second he snapped the bone into place, Dean woke up screaming, shooting up to a sitting position, his eyes flaring open and boring straight into Michael's, hurt and scared as if they were asking 'why? why would you do this to me?'

Michael gasped, and his lower lip trembled at the sight of a hurt man, but before he could say a word, Dean fell back on the bed, his eyes closing, his consciousness slipping into darkness once again.

It was a reaction, just a reflex, nothing more. Michael wasn't trying to hurt him, he wasn't. Still, that look in his eyes was all Michael could think about as he bandaged his leg and stitched it up. It was all he could think about as he removed the tarp from under the hunter and covered him with a duvet. It was all he could think about as he took a blanket and curled up on the old recliner chair, the only other place beside the floor he could sleep on.

It was all he could think about, as sleep overtook him, those bright green eyes, filled with hurt and pain, boring into him. Asking him Why?


	4. Healing

Michael was startled awake by sounds of someone moaning, loudly. He hissed at the soreness in his neck, but quickly neglected it, instead focusing on the man lying in his bed. The first rays of sun shone through the windows, lighting up the room and revealing Dean's skin, glistening with sweat. Michael paused, his jaw going slack, his eyes glued to the sight before him.

Dean was... Oh, wow, he was so hot... Burning hot...

... Probably running a fever with a temperature as high as 104 and having nightmares and hallucinations. He was trashing on the bed, and arching his back with his head thrown back, exposing his long neck.

" No, no... Please, don't... No... Please..." Dean whaled in his sleep, his voice filled with fear and despair. Michael knelt beside the bed, and tried to sooth him, taking a wet cloth and wiping his forehead. He used come creams his vessel had, applied them on the leg wound to make it heal faster.

Once more, Michael thought how easy it used to be. How he could just touch a person and make their nightmares go away, just set his hand on them and heal all their aches. He always had that ability, just like any other angel.

Only... He can't remember if he ever used it.

For two days, Dean was delirious, and Michael would be happy if he could get a few sips of water in him. The hunter didn't seem to notice there was anyone in the room with him, his mind too preoccupied with fighting through whatever infection was wrecking his system to be able to form coherent thoughts and process his surroundings.

For two days, Michael struggled, really hoping that his decision to remain depowered won't cost Dean his life. The night of the second day, the former archangel came so close to breaking and releasing his grace, only for a slight chance he might help Dean.

Because Dean was in so much pain at that point, hissing and whaling and moaning, sweat pouring out of him so much, Michael feared he would dehydrate. He kept trying to make him drink that water with electrolytes his vessel kept in storage, hoping it would help.

That second night, Dean was so shaking, his skin burning, cold sweat breaking out of him. His experience as an archangel wasn't helpful, but his vessel's memories were, and they kept telling him the worst is about to hit, but that Dean seemed like a strong man, and that he could fight through it.

It was around two in the morning that the fever broke, Dean calmed and stopped shanking, falling into a deep sleep. Michael was finally able to breathe, relived and tired beyond belief. The stress of the past two days, the lack of proper sleep and a proper bed really got to Michael and as soon as he figured Dean would be alright, he slumped down on his chair and let the sleep take over.

It was around 3 PM when Michael woke, groaning at the soreness in his neck. He was so tired when he fell asleep, he didn't adequately ajusted his position, so his head lulled most of the night, causing his to cramp up.

Michael rubbed at it absentmindedly as he looked over the hunter who seemed to be peacefully sleeping. His skin wasn't covered in sweat anymore and it looked just the right shade of pink. His chest was rising at a steady rhythm, and his mouth was slightly open as he breathed. Michael blinked catching himself staring, so he quickly turned and headed for the kitchen.

He was hungry so he made himself a marmalade sandwich, and as he ate it, he contemplated about what comes next. Dean might wake soon, and he would need water, and some sustenance too. His vessel's mind helpfully supplied that soup would be the best idea, as it would be easy for a human to digest after a period of not eating at all, and it could easily be reheated if the hunter didn't wake soon, so Michael got straight to it.

* * *

_A few hours later_

It was really dark when Dean slowly started to come to. The first thing he noticed was the throbbing pain in his leg, but he couldn't see anything from the blankets that was on top of him. He was about to sit up and take a look when a deep sigh caught his attention and his eyes snapped to his left.

There, slumped in a chair, illuminated by a petroleum lamp, slept a man. Dean looked wary of him, and still he couldn't help but grimace at the position, knowing the man would be sore when he woke up. From a lying position, he took in as much of his surroundings as he could, figuring he was in a cabin, in the woods and was probably saved by this man. Question was, what happened to the werewolf?

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and preparing himself to slowly rise up to sit, as quietly as he could, not to wake the man up. But as he opened them, he caught a shadow of something on the ceiling, and squinted to try and understand what it was. His eyes followed the lines, piecing them together and coming up with... A huge devil's trap.

Slowly, Dean rose up, looking around the room. There were weapons scattered and hidden all over the place, some only visible to a trained hunter's eye. Cute pictures hung on the walls that had wardings hidden within, a picture in a picture. Iron rods strategically placed all around, a fancy silver candle stick looking so much out of place, and salt lines by the door and windows. Okay, so the guy was a hunter.

It made Dean relax a bit, and allowed him to focus on that throbbing pain in his leg. He uncovered the blankets and frowned, looking defeated. There were two planks secured tightly around his leg, there were bandages around it and if he didn't catch sight of a creme he knew had a magical effect on wounds like this, he is sure he would be screaming his head off right now.

The fact that the hunter saved him and that his house seemed to be warded, made Dean feel somewhat safe and made him relax, his body feeling tired and drained from the infection it fought off. So Dean laid back and closed his eyes, not really wanting to fall back to sleep, but the darkness overtook him anyway.


	5. Introductions

Michael woke with a grunt, his hand immediately flying over to rub at his neck. It felt so sore and stiff, he hissed as he dug his fingers in the muscles with an attempt to loosen them. When that didn't help, Michael forced himself to get up of the damn chair and stretch. His arms shot up as if he was trying to reach a high branch, his shirt riding up revealing his vessel's hips and abs.

A yawn broke from his lips and on instinct he tried to cover it with his hand. Glancing over at the kitchen, a routine pulled on his muscle memory to go and make some coffee. But he didn't like coffee, his vessel did, brewing a fresh pot every morning. Still, Michael liked the residual feeling of a repetitive action, so he walked out to the kitchen, heated some milk and made himself some hot chocolate.

He hummed at the first sip, his eyes falling closed as he enjoyed the taste of it on his tongue. A small smile tugged his lips, strange form of content filling his chest. He could almost call it happiness, because he had never felt so good.

Despite his sore neck.

But then Michael remembered his guest, a pang of guilt jolting him for forgetting and he turned to view his bed through the doorless frame of his bedroom. He gasped, the cup in his hand dangerously tilting and threatening to spill, but Michael was too focused on the sight before him to really notice.

Dean's bandaged leg was still in the same spot, but the other one was bent at the knee, sprawled down on the bed, his legs spread in an almost inviting way. The hunter's right arm was lying straight, mimicking his bandaged right leg, drawing a parallel, but the left hand was resting on his abdomen. His chest were slowly rising and falling in a steady breath, calm and composed.

The hunter's head seemed slightly elevated, a subtle stubble caressing his face. His plump lips were parted as he breathed, looking so tempting for some reason, as the morning light accentuated them and the freckles on his nose and cheeks.

But the really breathtaking thing were those two emerald eyes, watching the archangel and following his every move.

Michael gulped, the look in Dean's eyes seemed so judgemental and resentful as if the hunter could see through the facade and straight down to his swirling grace, as he knew just who it was that was standing merely five feet away. No, Michael was projecting, there wasn't a way for Dean to know this. Besides, the hunter was probably assessing him to try and determine if he was a friend or a foe.

Michael would like to be the former.

The thought startled him out of his daze, and Michael tipped the cup straight and placed it back on the counter before slowly moving towards the bedroom. Something unfamiliar flashed in Dean's eyes, and Michael raised his hands a bit, not quite in a surrender mode, but close enough to show the hunter he was unarmed.

Slowly, he came into the room and moved to the side of the bed, Dean's eyes watching his every move, eliciting a strange wave of tingles fo run down Michael's spine, but he disregarded it, focusing on Dean. He reached, took an unopened bottle of water of the nightstand and offered it to Dean. The hunter's brows inched closed as he glanced down at the bottle then back up at Michael.

The archangel opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't seem to be able to find the words. Instead, he uncapped the bottle and took a long sip, swallowed and then offered it to Dean again. This time, the hunter took the offered drink and gulped nearly half of it before he choked and started coughing. Michael rushed leaving the bottle on the table to help Dean rise up to clear his throat.

"Thanks." Dean said with a rough voice and Michael paused, wanting to say something, but felt so tongue-tied that he just ended up nodding, then turned to recap the bottle just so he would have something to do.

"You a hunter?" Dean questioned as he tried to settle back on the bed, and Michael looked back at him, confused. Not by the question itself, but more like the fact that he chose to ask that, instead of his location or previous events. Before Michael even got a chance to answer, Dean kind of did it for him.

"I mean, if the devil's trap, salt lines and hidden weapons are anything to go by." Dean said and Michael glanced around, for the first time noticing these things. They were his vessel's, not his, but he still instinctively fixed the salt lines every night, not even noticing he was doing that until now.

"Did you by any chance take down the son of a bitch that did this to me? The werewolf?" Dean kept going, drawing Michael's attention, and for the first time he actually answered the hunter, albeit with a nod, not words. He just wanted to ease his mind and make sure he knew, there was no threat out there.

"Good. That's good..." Dean said, trailing of for a moment. He squinted his at the archangel as if he was back to assessing him and Michael, needing something to do, grabbed Dean's phone from the nightstand and shoved it in his hands.

"Yeah, no signal, I know. You got a sat-phone? No? I suppose I am stuck here for a while then, huh?" Dean said and looked back up at Michael. His gaze was so heavy, his eyes so green, Michael couldn't stand to have them watching him like that, but at the same time he wanted to be all they could see and he just couldn't tear his gaze away.

Dean huffed a smile, lifted his hand and reached it out. "I'm Dean."

Michael blinked down at the offer hand, then back at the hunter as if he just broke some sort of a dream by saying his name out loud and shit, this was real, this was happening and Michael's throat closed up on him as he stared at Dean for a moment, then abruptly turned and ran out to the kitchen.

"Alright..." Dean said closing his hand before lowering his arm. The man was out in the kitchen, fidgeting with some pots, and Dean looked down on his leg, sighing. With no signal and no way to tell Sam where he was, it was clear that he is stuck here for a while. Well maybe that guy could go to town and make the call for him, but Dean wasn't so sure he wanted to be alone.

Another sigh escaped him, but he did see the good side. The guy seemed trustworthy, a fellow hunter and apparently a good guy if he was willing to waste the magical creme to ease Dean's pain. He was odd, but Dean supposed he could have ended up with worse. Or dead in a ditch. Looking around the room, he took in his surroundings again, not as a hunter, but just as a curios person.

There was a tall cabinet next to the door, the lower part filled with books, the top closed off. The shelves around had more books, but also a baseball trophy and a increased baseball, probably signed by someone famous. There were a few frames with pictures of the guy and a woman, something from years ago. There was another one of him holding a huge fish, posing by it with a wide smile.

And then, there was another picture of the guy, standing and pointing to his truck and the logo of his business. Dean smiled and called out to the man.

"Mike's Home Repairs. Guess I know your name now, Mike."

A large crash echoed from the kitchen, plates breaking and pots rattling on the ground, surprising Dean, but not making him drop that wide smile of being right.


	6. Something about you

Mike looked a little dismayed as he came back into the bedroom, carrying a tray of something steaming hot and Dean's attention was drawn to it as he smelled the rich flavor of a meal he never really liked to eat, or rather would never order, but damn if it did smell good. His stomach growled in anticipation and Dean actually blushed just a bit, feeling embarrassed of how loud that was.

"That for me?" The hunter asked with a quirked eyebrow and a lip to match. Michael only bowed his head lower, not daring to make eye contact as if his eyes would betray him.

Truth was, he had no idea what to do. Logic told him he should tell the hunter who he was and not keep secrets because they always get revealed in the worst possible time, but there were so many reasons for him not to say a word.

Dean's current situation and health, for one. The hunter was hurt and basically defenceless. Not to mention stranded here, and telling him the truth would only antagonize him and make a bad situation worse. Then, of course there was the reason Michael wanted solitude in the first place. No more angels and apocalypse and hunters and all of that. He just wanted to live in peace. And that would clearly be disrupted if he revealed who he truly was.

Perhaps it would be best if he just remained quiet.

"Smells really good." Dean commented as Mike came closer. One look at the simple noodle soup in the bowl had Dean humming and Mike reddening, because the sound was too eclectic, pleased and erotic and approving and it just made the poor little archangel's heart pound harder.

With a small grunt, Dean tried to shift into an somewhat seating position and Michael quickly set the tray down on the nightstand, then reached and reset the pillows, leaning into Dean's space and pausing, looking startled as their eyes met. Dean's lips just twitched into a half smile and Michael moved away, dazed.

"You smell really good too..." Dean said as Michael took the tray "... Like the soup, I mean... You smell like the soup." Dean corrected himself rather dumbly, but Michael's cheeks still flushed. The archangel sat the tray in Dean's lap and flinched, startled when Dean set his hand over Michael's. His eyes went wide, but he didn't pull back.

"Thank you." Dean said kindly and Michael's flush deepened, but he managed to nod back and then offer a small smile. The sight of those lips curling up made Dean's eyes go wide, pupils dilating and a blush of his own creeping up his cheeks. But then his eyes travelled down to the tray and Dean chuckled, confusing the hell out of the archangel.

"Not the first time I felt heat rise up in my nether regions at the sight of a smile like that, but it is certainly a first to be a result of a hot bowl in my lap." Dean explained and managed to draw a real smile out of Michael. Both paused, eyes lingering on the face of the other, but the moment wasn't awkward at all.

"Are... Are you gonna eat too?" Dean asked, some sort of concern in his voice. Almost as if he was worried the other man would starve because he shared his meal. But Michael only nodded then turned and left the room, disappearing somewhere to the left. By now Dean figured that's where the kitchen was.

A few moments later, Michael came into the view, glancing his way before setting his bowl on the small dinning table. He seemed reluctant, like he wanted to be in the same room with Dean, be close to him, but didn't want to intrude or seem clingy. Lucky for him, Dean knew what he wanted.

"You're not gonna keep me company?" The hunter questioned with a small pout, and Michael just stared for a moment, surprised Dean would want him to be close. Slowly, as if he was giving Dean an opportunity to change his mind, Michael picked up the bowl and came back into the bedroom, sitting down on his chair. Dean gave him a wide grin before he dove in, humming as the taste of warm soup spread in his mouth and filled his empty stomach.

They kept glancing at one another as they ate, catching the other one watching, and still, it didn't felt awkward at all, only caused pleasant feelings to spread through their bodies. Once they were done, Michael took Dean's bowl and walked back out towards the kitchen. Dean had a very happy, very pleased smile on his face considering his current situation.

He supposed he could have been off worse, but that wasn't it. There was just something about this guy, about how shy and silent he was that awoke something in Dean. He seemed so kind and soft, tender even, at yet he was the one that took down the werewolf and dragged Dean back into his cabin. Even under all those layers of clothes, it was evident that the guy was strong, had good set of muscles on him. Dean always admired people with lean bodies.

A few minutes passed by and Dean realized he hadn't heard from his friend. "Mike?" Dean tried, but was met with silence. "Hey, Mike? You there?" Nothing. I mean, sure the guy hadn't said a word to him all day, or like at all, but he would have answered Dean in a way, right? Slight panic started to crawl its way into Dean's mind, because there are a million things that could have gone wrong, and Dean was almost incapable of helping. "Fuck this." The hunter said and flipped the blanket off, revealing his very much broken and bandaged leg. (No to mention nothing else but his boxer briefs, but we won't talk about that now).

Just as he was about to attempt to get up, when he heard the front door open, and crap, he must have been deep in his thoughts before, because he totally missed that Mike went out. The man walked into view, carrying an armful of firewood and setting it next to the fireplace before adding one into the fire.

Okay, now he felt stupid. Even worse, Michael looked his way and frowned, then rushed to his side with a questioning brow. "Sorry, I..." Dean started, not sure what to say. 'I got worried about you' just didn't sound right, so he blurted the next thing that came to mind. "...I needed to use the john."

Michael's frown deepened, laced with confusion as if he didn't quite get that reference while Dean blushed as if it wasn't a completely normal thing that human beings had physiological needs.

"I, um... I need to pee." Yeah, nice save there, Dean. Since he knew he wasn't supposed to get up and set his weight on that leg, not even a little bit, the guy's probably gonna give him a bucket and... Crap, this was embarrassing.

But then... The guy's eyes raked all over Dean's body as if he was assessing him and Dean felt more heat in his cheeks that seemed to travel downwards, but now way was he gonna let himself get hard, and expose that to the guy. That endeavour however became a lot more difficult when Mike reached and snaked his hands around Dean, lifting him and helping him up.

Shit, the guy was strong. He took almost all of Dean's weight, albeit with a grunt, and without letting him lean on that broken foot. Dean hissed, because of course it had to hurt and he could almost feel the concern washing over Mike, who did whatever he could to get Dean to the bathroom with as little actual movement on Dean's side as possible. Dean wouldn't be surprised if the guy went on and picked him up bridal style.

He was so freaking helpful, Dean wouldn't be surprised if he removed Dean's underwear just to help him sit down on the toilet. Oh... What if he took Dean's dick out and held it for him? Fuck, Dean really needed to stop thinking like this because he will end up not being able to do anything else but jerk himself off in the bathroom.

Still there was just something about this whole situation that made that idea so freaking hot.

Luckily, he was left to his own devices, but the caring Mike was just outside the door, waiting to help him back to bed. And when Dean thought about it, maybe... Maybe it wasn't something about this situation... Maybe it was something about this guy. Something different. Something... Nice.


	7. Keyser Söze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize in advance for the length of this chapter. There was just so much I wanted to say in this one, and it ended up twice the regular size. Hope you guys don't mind? ? 😁

Leaning on the guy while he helped Dean walk back to his bed felt so good. Mike smelled so nice, like lemons and mint and for a guy that shy, he sure as hell was strong and for some reason, Dean found it so hot. Mike helped him to the bed and put him down gently, his hand firm on Dean's waist, sending millions of goosebumps to crawl over his skin. Damn, there was just something about this guy and about the way he was treating Dean like he was the most precious thing to him that made some strange emotions swirl up in Dean.

The hunter couldn't remember when was the last time someone took care of him.

Dean shook his head, trying not to let his thoughts venture where he didn't want them to go, because he had no business thinking like that about Mike. Hell, he wasn't even sure if the guy liked him, or even tolerated him, considering he still didn't say a word to Dean. Come to think of it, he hadn't said anything at all, and Dean isn't sure if he even heard him make a sound. Maybe the guy's mute?

Not sure what would be the polite way of asking someone if they are unable to speak for a medical reason, Dean decided not to go there at all. He really didn't want to sound like a jackass and make the guy uncomfortable, not when he went out of his way to help Dean.

As he was laid back down on he bed, Dean couldn't help but close his eyes and mourn to loss of those gentle hands just a little bit. A part of him expected Mike to take a blanket and cover him, tuck him in and... Dean had no idea he longed for a physical contact so much, but he was slowly starting to realize it. If he didn't count the occasional woman in his motel room, the last time he had a real connection to someone was... Oh, wow. Lisa. Nine years ago. Yeah, no wonder he was burnt up.

But Mike didn't cover him up and Dean startled, his eyes flying open as he felt the bed dip right next to his wounded leg. Mike froze, looking up at him as Dean was a wounded animal that might attack him at any given moment. He slowly raised his hands to draw attention to them and show Dean what he had in them. Oh. A washcloth and a cream box. Dean huffed a smile and gave a small nod, feeling dumb for scaring a man, but also strangely thrilled that... He was about to be touched again.

If it wasn't for the slowly intensifying pain in his leg, it would have been nearly erotic the way Mike took time to clean any blood residue off his calf and knee and... thigh and _please go higher, oh, God, please..._ The guy was so gentle and meticulous and focused and Dean got lost for a moment, biting his lower lip and simply enjoying the touch before he realized he was wearing only his boxer briefs and they hid away nothing, especially not the semi he was currently sporting. Jesus, he had to calm down, he had to reel himself in, he didn't need to freak the guy out.

But Mike seemed too focused on the task at hand to notice Dean's slowly growing erection or the fact that the hunter was blushing like crazy. No, Mike just kept working, cleaning Dean's leg really good before he put the washcloth away, and then proceeded to slowly remove the bandage on the wound where Dean's broken bone pierced the flesh and the skin. Dean grimaced and let out a little hiss, and Mike looked up to him to make sure he was okay before picking up a cotton ball and peroxide and cleaning the stiched wound, so gently and tenderly, Dean fought hard and kept his tongue trapped between his teeth so that he wouldn't make another sound. Once he was done, he applied the cream that Dean knew for sure was a slightly magical concoction, he knew that smell, that texture, that colour.

Mike's fingers glided tentatively over the wound and wider and as the numbness spread, Dean couldn't help but refocus on the man's touch. Something in his mind screamed at him for more, something in his heart ached, starved for affection, but Dean dared not say or do anything and before he knew it, it was done. Mike applied a new bandage over the wound, checked the planks that held Dean's leg straight and then... Covered him with a blanket and tucked him in, wearing a small smile the entire time, and completely melting Dean's heart with it.

* * *

The soothing effect of the cream must have been slightly intense, because Dean didn't really remember when he fell asleep, only that he felt so warm and safe and he must have just let go, his body needing rest to heal better. But the best part of him waking up was finding Mike, sitting in his chair next to Dean's bed, reading and clearly watching over Dean. And then Dean was rewarded with another small, kind smile and it was the best thing the hunter had seen in... Years.

"Mmm... Mornin'... Or is it... Evenin'?" Dean asked as he tried to lift himself up a bit, Mike immediately rushing to his aid. The man looked out of the window and Dean followed his gaze, only to find that it was in fact evening and the sun was just about to set.

"Mmm... Sorry. Must have dozed off..." Dean said feeling the need to explain himself for some reason, but Mike just shook his head as if it was all irrelevant and handed Dean some water, clearly guessing that Dean was thirsty. As Dean drank down, Mike went away to the kitchen and fifteen minutes later he came back with a tray of the same soup, reheated, but this time there was an addition of crackers and toast and apple sauce and Dean was just... Touched by all this attention. And then the most amazing thing happened.

Mike went back to the kitchen and came back with another tray with all the same things, sat back to his chair and smiled at Dean, nodding at his food to get him to start eating. But Dean was... He had no idea how he felt, he just knew he had to find out...

"Did you... Did you wait for me to wake up to eat?" Dean asked and Oh! My! the casual shrug Mike gave him like it was no big deal... It was. It was a big deal, at least to Dean. Nobody ever waited for him. Nobody ever...

 _Stop. Just stop. No need to turn this into a girly moment, it is just food and... maybe the guy didn't want to eat alone. Maybe he is lonely and wanted to share a meal with someone. You don't have to make this into something that it's not._ Dean told himself and dug into his food, deciding to ignore his feelings like so many times before.

"So... Whacha reading?" Dean asked trying to avert his own attention and thoughts and make conversation with the guy. It had nothing to do with his feelings and the fact that he wanted to get to know Mike a bit better. The guy looked at his book, picked it up and held it for Dean to read the title.

"The witch of Grich? Never heard of it. But I guess lore is lore, right?" Dean said and Mike shook his head in a clear no. "No? Then what is it?" To Dean's question, Mike thought for a moment before he lifted his hands up, brought the heels together and bent the fingers, effectively making a heart shape.

"A romance novel? Seriosly?" Dean asked a bit surprised and Mike just shrugged off as if he was trying to say that it was an interesting read. "Okay, well... You got anything else? I am going to be stuck here for a while and um... I wouldn't mind something to read..." Dean said, not really wanting to do any reading whatsoever, but knew that if he didn't do that, that he would go out of his mind, because here, there was nothing else he could do.

Mike nodded and pointed out of the room, the motion telling Dean there were more books in the living room. "Great." Dean said, his voice clearly lacking any excitement and Mike frowned at him. Dean scolded himself for not being a bit more grateful, but didn't know what to say as Mike's piercing eyes kept glaring at him in consideration.

Suddenly, like he had an epiphany, Mike's brows shot up, a smile spread across his face and Dean could practically see the light bulb above his head. Setting the tray down, Mike stood up, went to the large cupboard and flung the door open. Dean actually laughed, thrilled at the sight of an old TV and a VHS recorder, with a few lines of VHS tapes on a shelf underneath. But more importantly at the smile Mike had on his face, obviously thrilled he managed to make Dean happy, to make him smile.

This guy will be the death of him.

The movie choices were really good aside from a few Julia Roberts chick flicks, but Dean decided to let Mike choose first. It seemed like the guy had never seen or heard of any of these, or maybe Dean was just imaging it, he wasn't sure, but he was glad he chose a thriller/action movie called ' _The Usual Suspects_ '. Dean himself had heard of it, but strangely never seen it.

And it seemed like an interesting movie with a good cast and a good plot, but Dean didn't really follow it well at first, his mind and subsequently his eyes falling back on the man in the chair by his bed. Mike was interested in the movie, followed every little detail and made all the right reactions to the scenes he was watching for the first time.

Dean figured the movie was about a group of thugs getting sucked into doing another man's bidding, but the more the story went on, the more he himself got sucked into it too. Never in a million years did he see that ending coming and it really made the movie so much better then what he first thought of it.

But then the last line was spoken and Mike, he...

_"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist."_

Mike, he actually laughed. Like a really heartfelt, genuine laugh. Dean had no idea what that was about, but he didn't care, because hearing the sound of that laughter was... Amazing didn't quite do it justice.

It was like a cool breeze on a warm summer's night, a warm blanket on a windy day. A ray of sunshine when it rains, a cup of hot cocoa after a day in the snow. The sound was just...

Heavenly.


	8. Share

Next it was Dean's turn to choose a movie, and naturally, he chose a classic. Terminator 2 - Judgment Day. But just as Mike was about to play it, he paused, frowned, then turned to look at Dean, a small smile appearing on his face. His expression told Dean that the man came up with an idea, but of course, one he wouldn't share with Dean. Not in words, anyway.

But he would probably show him. Mike practically ran out of the room, and by the look of it, towards the kitchen, and a moment later Dean heard popping sounds. He huffed a laugh, feeling the place fill with the smell of popcorn. Dean's smile widened into a huge grin at the sight of a giant bowl with one of his favourite movie treats as Mike came back in the room. The man set the bowl in front of Dean, his brows furrowing in contemplation as he adorably scratched his head, probably figuring the logistics of them sharing it.

He looked at his chair, then back at the bowl, then back at the kitchen and Dean could see that he was trying to figure out if he should scoot the chair closer and keep reaching of a handful of popcorn at them time, or if he should find a smaller bowl and take off the big pile. His inner struggle was so cute, and Dean was overwhelmed with a desire to solve it.

"Plenty of room here." Dean said as je patted a spot right net to him on the bed, then scooted over using his hands for lift. "I won't bite." He added, suddenly feeling that isn't exactly true. Shaking it off, Dean decided to add a little more persuasion. "It's gotta be more comfortable then the chair and we can share the popcorn too."

Mike froze, his eyes going wide, irises dilating, and mouth opening as if he was about to speak. Dean beamed to hear his voice, but was once again left hanging when the man scolded his expression so fast, if Dean wasn't paying attention, he would have missed it all. Still, Mike couldn't help the blush that rose on his cheeks, followed by the smallest, most adorably shy smiles Dean has ever seen.

Mike nodded and walked closer, turning and setting his tush on the mere edge of the bed, like he didn't want to disturb Dean's personal space. The hunter huffed a laugh, then motioned for him to come closer to the empty space on the bed and lean on the pillow by the headboard, and with a small gulp, Mike complied.

Carefully, not wishing to shift the bed too much and hurt Dean, Mike moved closer, right next to Dean. The man's scent reached Dean and his lips quirked into a semi-smile at the fragrance of vanilla, probably frim the soap the guy used when he showered.

Considering his current predicament, Dean could have been off worse then sitting next to a good smelling guy and watching one of his favorite movies while stuffing his face with popcorn. The whole thing reminded him of going to the movies, and it brought back memories of the last time he was on a date. Rhonda Hurley. Good times.

This kind of felt like that. But of course, Dean couldn't yawn and throw his arm around the guy or something stupid like that. He wasn't a kid anymore, he was an adult. An adult with a plan.

The entire time, Dean threw hidden glances at the guy, purposely brushing their hands together whenever Mike went for the popcorn, but the guy was too engrossed in the plot to notice him. When the movie finally ended, Dean turned to the man.

"Wow, some movie huh?" To that, Mike only nodded, then went to get off the bed, his head bowed low. Dean's hand shot up and grabbed his wrist, making the man's eyes snap up at Dean's. They stared at each other for a moment before Dean reluctantly let go. "Sorry, I..." He said and trailed off.

Maybe he didn't have a good plan after all. He was an adult, maybe it would be best to be honest? But how could he do that? How could he just tell the guy he felt attracted to him, something he never felt for a guy, not as strongly. He had no idea how the guy would react, for all Dean knew, he could get punched in the face for pulling any shit on him.

Too preoccupied with his own thoughts, he missed the moment when Mike got up, only catching the sight of him as he excited the bedroom with an empty bowl in his hand. Dean could see him when he checked on the fire, adding three more logs then going back to the kitchen. When he came back, he brought a bottle of water and offered it to Dean.

Dean took the bottle with a silent "Thanks.", then stared at it for a long time, thinking. He spent his entire life taking care of someone else, and it felt so weird, but yet so good to have someone take care of him for a change. Still, as good as it was, it felt... Uncomfortable. Dean wished there was a way he could repay the man for all his kindness.

Mike brought more VHS tapes to him, offering Dean to choose if he wanted to watch more, but Dean felt too tired to focus on any of those. In fact, Mike seemed rather tired himself, so Dean just shook his head. "Nah, I am too sleepy, my eyes are closing. I think I'll hit the hay."

He was just about to tell Mike he could watch if he wanted to, that Dean didn't mind, but the man nodded, letting out a sound of agreement and put the tapes back. He motioned for the bathroom and Dean shook his head, glad he didn't have to go, so Mike went on ahead. Dean heard the water running, but Mike was back too soon to have been a shower. When he came back, he turned off the big lights, leaving only one small lamp and sunk down on his recliner chair.

Dean had already shifted down the bed, so grateful for that magical creme and the fact that he only felt mild discomfort and watched the guy settle down, taking a thin blanket. The guy shifted a few times, trying to find a comfortable position, stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders.

"That chair seems pretty uncomfortable." Dean stated, drawing Mike's attention to him. "You know, I know it might be weird, but there is no need to try and sleep on that when there is plenty of room here. I shared a bed with fellow hunters before, mostly my fart of a brother, and as long as you stay on your side, and I stay on my side, I can't see a problem with that."

Mike watched him for a moment, reluctant and uncertain, his lips parting as if he was about to say something, then closing like he changed his mind. And yeah, maybe Dean would like to get closer to the guy and all, but mostly he just wanted to repay him for all his troubles.

"If, you don't want to do it for you, then do it for me." Dean said and could see the man suck in a breath at that, his expression changing.

"You... You have saved me and you are practically waiting on me hand and foot and I can't do much to show how much I appreciate that. But I can at least offer this, offer you to get some proper rest in a proper bed. So please. Accept. As a Thank You."

Mike stared at him for a moment, the silence stretching long between them, until he let out a deep breath and got of his chair. Dean immediately scooted over to the right edge of the bed, as much as he could, his right (broken) leg out of harm's way, his smile wide and directed at Mike. The man carefully climbed on and laid beside him, like Dean, on his back, stiff and reserved as he stared at the ceiling for a moment.

When he turned his head towards Dean, and Dean smiled at him, Mike finally relaxed and smiled back. The bed being so comfy and with the guy not having a proper rest for a few nights, he dozed off quite quickly, while Dean stayed up, watching him and feeling good for the first time in a while.


	9. Falling

Dean vaguely remembered waking up at the ass crack of dawn and thinking he had died and went to Heaven and had the most beautiful of Heaven's angels laying by his side,sleeping soundly and looking so beautiful - bathed in the rays of the sun, his lips parted and inviting, begging to be kissed.  
  
Then his brain kicked in and he remembered that Heaven and angels weren't a fairytale, but winged dicks and that Mike deserved better then to be compared to the likes of them. He deserved better then to have Dean ogle him too. So Dean went back to sleep.  
  
When he woke up next, the space next to him was empty and cold and the sight saddened Dean for a moment before he realized Mike probably got up to feed the fire and make breakfast, since the whole cabin was warm and smelled like waffles.  
  
"Mike? You out there?" Dean called and huffed a laugh when the guys head popped into view, but not the rest of him. "Well, morning..." Dean said and the guy offered a small smile and a nod before disappearing in the kitchen general area.  
  
He popped back in a few minutes later, tray in hand and walked slowly as the large stack of waffles wobbled along with the maple syrup bottle. He set the tray before Dean who by then rose to a sitting position and then just stood there, glancing from the waffles to Dean.  
  
"This all for me?" Dean questioned and got a nod from Mike. "Well, I guess I better dig in then." Dean poured a bit of syrup, the flavour  
not really his favourite, but considering he hadn't eaten properly in days, it was probably the best choice for him right now. He cut a  
piece and brought it up, watching as Mike sucked it his lower lip between his teeth and observed Dean's mouth with anticipation as he was about to take his bite.  
  
The look in his eyes and the expression on his face right then were so freaking hot, Dean unintentionally paused and swallowed hard,  
imagining what it would be like to have his own lower lip caught between those teeth. Jesus, he had to snap out of it, he must look  
like an idiot staring at the man, mouth open to take a bite.  
  
"Mmm, oh, wow..." Dean hummed his appreciation once he actually focused in the taste. "These are really good. So puffy and delicious." Dean said and Mike's smile blew out of proportion. Dean cut up another  
piece and lifted it up. "You gotta try this..." Dean said and Mike was about to turn and point towards the kitchen, silently telling Dean he had a plate of his own, but Dean's expression was so inviting and a bit pleasing as he held up that fork and how could he say no to those emerald greens?  
  
He hummed his approval, but when he opened his eyes, the hunter was staring at him, pleasantly surprised. Mike had no idea what that was about, he had no idea that was actually the first time he ever let out a deep sound of any kind.  
  
Not to mention how fucking hot this whole thing was for Dean, from the moment those lips wrapped around that fork to that sound that just went straight to his dick. God, he really needed to get himself under control.  
  
Still, that didn't stop him from feeding Mike half of his portion, sad to see it go so fast and not being able to enjoy doing something for the man. Oh, that joy and that stunning smile he let out when Mike went to the kitchen and brought another full plate. He was so giddy when he got to share more with him and by the time they were finished, the smiles were permanantly plastered on their faces.  
  
The rest of the day they spent in each other's company, reading their books in silence (Dean was so bored,but didn't want to disturb the guy) and then later sharing another meal, this time oven baked potatoes with just a bit of bacon, so not to upset Dean's stomach.  
  
Mike left him alone only a handful of times, to fetch more firewood, or to make the late lunch, and bathroom breaks. Speaking of those... Mike just came in, and rounded the bed, coming up to Dean's right and motioning for the cleaning supplies.  
  
"Can... can you help me get to the bathroom first?" Damn it, this shit was embarrassing, but after a whole day, Dean really needed to go. Mike nodded and helped him up, those strong hands holding him and fuck, he just wanted to be wrapped in those hands forever. Halfway through, Dean stumbled m, but Mike was quick to react, pulling Dean up  
before he could fall and plastering him flush against his own body.  
  
Dean gasped and their eyes met, the moment too long and at the same time too short before the man broke the contact and carried on with his task. As they walked into the bathroom, Dean threw one longing  
look at the shower, and sighed. He must stink like hell. Not to mention his breath. Mike left him alone to do his business, but not before making sure Dean would be alright on his own, then helped him back to bed.  
  
Dean seemed to retreat into himself, his eyes constantly averted, sad and sulking even as Mike cleaned his wound. Not even the popcorn and the movies cheered him up, even if it was him who picked up Jurassic  
Park. Hoping to make him feel better, Mike opted for a sequel, but, still, Dean seemed to be getting depressed and it worried Mike.  
  
It worried him as he laid next to Dean that night too, the invitation repeated by the hunter, and maybe he shouldn't have taken it, because Dean seemed uncomfortable.  
  
What did Mike do wrong?


	10. Fallen

Bacon and eggs were the perfect breakfast option, but Mike feared the eggs prepared in such a way would upset Dean's stomach, so he decided to make pancakes instead, hoping it would he okay. While he was looking for some ingredients he came across a can of whipped cream and thought it might cheer the hunter up.

He grew worrisomely depressed yesterday and Mike didn't know why. And he was to chicken to ask in case it might turn up to be him. He found the hunter sitting up, slouched and eyes downcast, hands in his lap. He took a deep breath and slid the tray in his lap, hoping to at least draw a small smile.

But what he got was a heavy sigh as Dean just stared at the offered food. Mike took a deep breath and decided to try and find out what was going on, because he couldn't stand to see Dean so unhappy. Slowly, he  
sat on the bed and seemingly unintentionally nudged Dean's thigh with his knee. The hunter looked up, his green eyes so fucking sad, Mike would do just about anything to wipe those emotions from them.

" 'm sorry. I'm not supposed to have... chick flick moments and mental breakdowns. It's just that... I feel so fuckkng useless. I can't do  
anything to help, I can't even go to the fucking bathroom by myself. I reek and I could probably kill a vampire with my dead-man's breath. And you're... You're just being super nice and I can't... I can't even  
repay you."

As Dean talked, his eyes fell down on his lap again, but once he was finished, there was suddenly a very comforting hand on top of his, squeezing lightly for reassurance. Dean lifted his gaze and met the forest greens of the man before him. Mike smiled and pointed towards the breakfast tray as if he was saying that it would make him happy if Dean ate it.

Maybe even shared...

By the time they finished breakfast, Dean seemed a bit better, but looked rather confused when Mike came back into the room after putting the food away and nudged him to get up. Still, he went willingly, and allowed himself to be lead towards the bathroom. There, in the shower, sat a wooden stool and next to it, duck tape and a large plastic bag. For a moment it looked something out of a b-rated slasher movie where the bad guy would dismember his victim and stuff body part in the trash bag. But this wasn't a lame horror movie and Mike wasn't the bad guy.

Mike carefully sat Dean down on the stool, and Dean wished those warm hands would linger on his body a while longer, never before realizing how touch-starved he actually was. The guy took the big bag and pulled it over Dean's broken leg, then used the tape to seal it, wrapping it around Dean's thigh high enough just to be sure no water would reach the wound. Dean felt an odd thrill go through his body when Mike took his shirt and lifted it up to help him remove it. Since he was only in his boxer briefs for the lower half of the body, Mike pointed at them,  
then at the shower curtain, then himself and the fresh pair in his hand.

Dean has never been very good a charades, but he understood perfectly that Mike would let him remove the last piece of clothing on his own, and wait for him on the other side of the curtain for Dean to finish. Not that Dean would at this point mind if Mike was the one to remove his underwear.

The shower felt so damn good, the hot water feeling amazingly on his skin. It was weird to be sitting down during a shower, but Dean didn't care, he relished in the feel of the hot spray, of the smell of that vanilla soap he scented on Mike and in the end felt more relaxed then he ever remembered being. Always on alert and never having a moment to just lay back and relax, it felt good to be able to do this. He didn't know what was it about Mike, but he trusted him, trusted him to keep Dean safe and taken care off.

"Can I get a towel?" Dean asked and a hand with a towel reached through the shower curtain, making him smile. "Underwear?" He asked for next after he finished wiping and sure, there was a hand with a fresh pair of boxers, just his size too. "A shirt?" He asked and laughed when an empty hand reached in, index finger lifted to tell him to wait a second because Mike forgot to bring in an extra shirt. "It's ok, we can get one back in the bedroom." Dean said not wanting to trouble the guy.

Only when the curtain opened and Mike reached to help him up, pausing before his hand made contact with Dean's glistening skin. His pupils dilated as those eyes roamed over the hunter's lean body and Dean suddenly felt so hot under that gaze even if he should feel cold. The hunter reached to grab Mike's hand and their eyes met for another moment, which the man quickly broke and shook off any daze that was so  
evident in his eyes.

Dean had no more doubts the guy was attracted to him.

And as exciting that though was, it was also very scary. Because, here, in their little bubble, it was nice and Dean could let things  
develop, but out there... Out there Chuck was loose and toying with them and Mike would be another thing he could use against Dean. And Dean didn't think he could handle that.

Still, all those thoughts went down the drain when Mike's hands wrapped around his bare torso to help him up and out of the shower and he leaned into that touch, and he leaned onto Mike, suddenly feeling so fragile and tired. The man lead him to the bed and sat him down, then retrieved a nice, clean green shirt for him to wear and Dean put it on, and then looked up at Mike, eyes filled with all sorts of emotions.

Jesus what the hell was wrong with him? If he didn't know any better, he would say he was PMS-ing, for Christ's sake.

And once more, all those thoughts just washed away as Mike came closer, wrapped his arms around Dean and drew him closer in a warm and comforting embrace. Nothing ever felt so right as this did, and Dean held on, his fists clenched in the man's shirt, wanting, needed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed me some comments, people! I am hungry for some love too. 😅


	11. It starts with a touch

It only got better after the shower. First Mike struggled to remove the duct tape around Dean's thigh, the same one he put there around the trash bag to keep the water away from the wound. Dean might have exaggerated when he hissed and squirmed and made it look like the removal of the tape hurt a lot more then it did. But who could blame him, Mike took his time slowly removing it and touching Dean and brushing his fingers so close to his crotch, leaving pleasant tingles everywhere.

And besides, Mike was so adorable fussing over Dean, acting so caring and protective, it made Dean's heart swell.

When he finally finished and Dean's leg was once again free of the plastic bag, he took his time to examine the wound, testing the pain and trying to figure out where it is in the healing process. As Dean scooted over to the pillow and lifted his leg up on the bed, Mike disappeared to the bathroom for a moment, only to return with a glass of water, a small bowl, a toothbrush and toothpaste. Dean grinned up at him, brushed his teeth and grinned at him again, showing off his clean pearly whites. A part of him felt so childish, but another part loved it, especially when the guy smiled back at him.

After that, Mike seemed to get more attentive towards Dean, using every chance he got to sneak a touch, a soft brush of fingers or a warm comforting hand. It was like he could feel that Dean needed it, needed the connection and just for someone to be there. To show him it is okay to want more, to need more and that it is okay if you feel like you're falling apart. It is only natural, only human to feel like that from time to time.

Eventually, the evening came and with it another fun night of old movie watching. Mike chose a movie because Dean insisted on it, he made the popcorn and came up to the bed, looking back at Dean, silently asking him if it would be okay to join him on the bed. Dean's smile grew wider and he just patted the spot next to him, scooting over just a bit. Mike settled, placed the popcorn between them and started the movie.

"Oh, God, I haven't seen this one in ages. It is a classic! And one of my favorite Christmas movies." Dean said as they watched Kevin feel so alone in a house filled with people. He is about to make a wish that will leave him home alone for a few days, Christmas eve included. 

As each of them reached to grab some popcorn, their hands came into contact a lot, and at one point they both had their hand in the popcorn bowl, Dean's hand over Mike's, just resting there for close to five minutes before Dean started second-guessing himself over it. Mike would laugh, silently, with huffs of air and hums every time the 'water bandits' would get themselves in one of Kevin's traps and Dean would always find himself drawn to the man's face when that happened. There was a spark of amusement in his green eyes, and a wide smile and there was just something about him looking so happy and relaxed that Dean could almost feel the positive energy seeping out of him. Like he was radiating happiness and damn if it wasn't contagious.

The movie ended and the bowl was empty, but Dean just wanted more, wanted this to last, and considering Mike liked 'Home Alone', it wasn't that hard to persuade him to put on the sequel too. Mike got up, changed the tapes and came back to sit next to Dean. The hunter had his hand lying next to his body, and Mike placed his own on top of it when he sat down as if it was the most normal thing to do.

They held hands thoughout the entire movie and Dean mourned the loss of its warmth when Mike got up to turn the TV off. It felt so good and so right and damn, Dean was getting sleepy, but he wanted to fight it, just for a possibility of another touch.

Dean woke up in the middle of the night and let out a small pleased sound, warmth and happiness bursting from his chest and spreading through his body. They laid next to one another as they did the night before, but somehow, Dean found himself using Mike's chest as a pillow while the man had his arm wrapped around him. The hunter shifted then smiled widely as the arm tightened it's hold over him and with that he fell back into slumber.

But it was the morning that brought the most thrilling feeling of all. Dean woke in the same position, his head on Mike's chest and the man's arm around him, but when he looked up at him, he found Mike wide awake and just looking down at him, eyes soft and kind. A few moments they just gazed into each other's eyes, a small blush spreading over Mike's cheeks. The man smiled kindly and then moved, his actions telling Dean he wanted to get up, so Dean lifted his head and freed the man's arm. 

Mike smiled again, got up and wandered over towards the kitchen and the living room and eventually even outside. He fetched the firewood, feed the fire, attended to other things, visited the bathroom and made breakfast and pretty much left Dean alone for a good chunk of the morning. And all that time Dean wondered why the hell did he let the moment slip and didn't kiss the man when he had the perfect opportunity.


	12. Second-guessing

Michael was panicking. He felt so drawn to Dean and let those stunning green eyes completely consume him and... Made him feel seen. He hadn't had that ever. Maybe a bit when he took over after Father left, when all the angels looked up to him for guidance, but he lost their trust along the way.

He always chased after what his Father wanted, what his Father told him to do, he never complained, never refused, never questioned. But he was so blind, he could see it now. He should have focused on his family and kept them safe, not allow them to be scattered around and killed in a civil war... 

No point in dwelling over what could have been.

But there was no point in continuing this thing he had going on with Dean. No matter how much he wanted to. The hunter seemed so... lonely and it was clear he needed comfort and safety and just to be able to relax and breathe properly. Michael learned, back in the cage, he learned that this was their story, the Winchesters. That he was just a side character, thrown away and forgotten. And he was so angry, wanted revenge and to show he mattered too, but the cage broke that fight in him. Still, it showed him one important thing.

Being left alone to rot was better then the pain and suffering the main characters had to endure. What Dean had to endure.

And on some level, Michael felt like he owed him for having his hand in that suffering and pain. 

The angel glanced a few times through the bedroom door, sometimes finding Dean glancing up and perking at the attention, other times finding him shyly and quickly looking away not be caught staring. Every time Michael almost ran away and it left a hollow feeling in his chest, he could almost say it hurt to walk away.

He should walk away, keep his distance and just help the hunter heal then let him be on his way. He should.

But one glance at a sad slouched Dean just smashed all those thoughts, making him completely forget what he should do. Instead, it was replaced by these feelings, this need to make the hunter smile, to make his eyes light up and to... Make him happy.

Was there even a point in fighting it?

There was one other thing. Dean still didn't know who Michael really was. And the angel didn't want to keep such a secret, but considering their past, this was easier for Dean. Easer to let him heal. Or so Michael told himself.

The truth was, he was getting attached. And he liked it. He liked it all. He liked the warmth of Dean's body next to him in bed at night. He liked the feel of his hand over Michael's. He liked Dean's soft skin under his fingers. And those eyes, how could they tell so much and at the same time hide plenty was beyond Michael.

And those plump pink lips... The way Dean would bite down on them or lick them with his tongue and make them shine, oh dear Heavens... He really wanted to learn if they were as soft and tender as they looked.

What would they taste like...

Taste...

_Oh, jumping Jehoshaphat, breakfast!!!_

Michael's eyes widened when he realized it was already noon and he still hadn't given Dean anything to eat. That hollow feeling in his chest intensified at the thought that Dean hadn't said a thing and that he would probably go hungry then intrude and ask... He was probably already thinking he was a burden and oh darn...

Michael had to make it up to him.

* * *

As minutes ticked by, Dean went from wondering why he didn't kiss the guy when he had a chance to second-guessing every little thing he said or did during his time here. 

Especially now that Mike retreated and was staying away right after he found Dean snuggling next to him. Shit, he shouldn't have done that. He should have let himself think that... That someone would be that interested in him. Not on that level.

Sex was one thing. If was just giving and receiving pleasure, purely physical, nothing emotional about it. Cuddling was... Intimate. 

Dean really shouldn't have done that. But he just wanted to, so badly, he thought that maybe, just this once, he could have what he wanted. Just for a little while...

Dean sighed and hung his head low. His stomach grumbled, but he ignored it, used to being hungry for unforseen periods of time even now that Sam was old enough to feed himself. His body was just trained that way. When he looked up and focused on what was happening outside of the bedroom,he found the place too quiet and slumped down. Mike wasn't even in the cabin anymore.

Was he really that bad that everyone just thought best to leave him behind?

He was startled from his thoughts when Mike practically burst through the door and was by his side in a few short strides. He reached and set his hands on Dean's ribs, and Oh!, Jesus!, it felt so good to have those hands on his body again, but what was Mike doing? Did he... Did he want Dean to get up?

The man was smiling widely at him and Dean just got lost in his soft green eyes and the excitement they bore, before Mike nudged him and Dean hurriedly nodded, then started to move. The man's warm hands were on him, his strong arms supporting him and leading him out of the room and Dean just leaned and sort of cherished the feeling not sure if he was going to get this close to the man ever again.

They paused by the bathroom door and Mike raised a brow and pointed at it, asking Dean if he needed to use it. It wasn't urgent, but since he was up, he might aswell go, so he nodded and let Mike help him in. After he was done, he thought Mike would lead him back to the bed but instead they turned towards the front door.

Dean silently gasped at the thought that Mike could be throwing him out in nothing but his boxer briefs and a thin T-shirt, but he shook off that feeling immediately. No matter what, Mike was a good guy, and he would never do that. He would have at least given Dean his jacket.

Apparently, Mike had another thing in mind. Instead of his jacket, Mike dressed him in a thick fur coat which was super warm and he threw a big comforter over his other shoulder then lead Dean outside. It was cold, but not as much as Dean expected, but what really drew Dean's attention was the thin layer of snow that covered everything around them.

It must have started falling during the night, just long enough to cover the ground and make everything look so magical. Dean could only imagine how beautiful it would look in the evening as the sun set over the horizon and cast that illusion of a warm orange glow.

Mike nudged him, and then they turned torwards the porch and Dean sucked in a breath, his eyes widening in awe. There, set on a small table was a big pile of fried bacon, and two steamy plates of scrambled eggs, orange juice and coffee and it looked just... Perfect.

Mike helped him to the nearest seat, then tucked the comforter all around Dean's lower body, making sure everything was covered and there would be no way Dean was cold. He stepped inside to get himself a coat too, something a little bit thinner then what Dean had on, probably because the only warm one he had was currently being used by Dean. He rounded the table, set opposite of Dean, smiled at him then motioned with his head for Dean to start eating so it doesn't get cold.

Dean has been on a million dates thus far, but none could compare to this one. Not a singe one.


	13. Wow

The moan that Dean let out at the very first bite of that crunchy bacon would put the best porn stars to shame, but somehow, all it did was make Mike blush like crazy. That was totally not why Dean did it. No sir-e.

No, seriously the food was really good, and Dean enjoyed every bite, a little sad to see the empty plate, but certainly full enough that he wouldn't be able to take another bite.

"That was one helluva breakfast." Dean said, and if Mike was a girl, Dean would surely made a comment about cooking and marriage. Hell, he would have said it regardless, with a wink too, but just didn't want to chance it and ruin the good mood.

Mike finished his meal in silence, and smiled up at Dean and his comment, his eyes forming a pleased look. He rose up and gathered the empty plates and glasses, then carried them inside, giving Dean a chance to focus on the beauty of the winter snow. It sure was a magnificent sight.

When Mike came back moments later, he set his hand on Dean's shoulder, unspeakingly asking him to allow Mike to help him up and into the cabin. Dean glanced up at the man, then back at the forest before them.

"You think... You think we could stay here just a while longer? It just feels so nice out here." Dean asked hopeful, not knowing that Mike could never say no to him. Seeing the man glance up at the snowy scenery, and subconsciously wrapping his arms around himself told Dean that Mike was probably cold. After all he was wearing the man's warmest coat.

"Maybe you could take another blanket and we could, um... Share?" Dean offered, and Mike looked down on him, his lips forming a thin smile and he nodded, then went inside to find another blanket. When he came back, he found that Dean had moved, all on his own, from his chair, to the bench that was right next to it. The hunter beckoned him closer.

"Come here." Dean said, and Michael frowned seeing him shrug the thick coat off one shoulder, but complied anyway, curious to see what Dean had in mind. He sat right next to him, and let Dean take the blanket, then wrap it around Michael's legs and his too. Then put his hand around the man's waist, pulled him closer and draped half of the coat over him.

Michael smiled, finding himself snuggled against Dean. His body was so warm and cozy, and the angel felt content to just sit there with the hunter in peace and watch the snowflakes fall. Even Dean, who was normally chatty, remained quiet, his constant need to break the silence somehow subdued and replaced by a child-like wonder in his eyes.

* * *

It was a few hours later that Mike helped Dean back into the cabin and to his bed, both men shaking and noses red, but with smiles on their faces. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, then scooted over to the pillow. When he looked back up, he saw Mike prepare to redress his wound. The man tapped the boards that were still bandaged to Dean's leg and looked up at Dean, and the hunter understood that Mike was going to attempt to remove them and see the progress of his broken leg.

As it turned out, it was better then both of them expected, from what Mike could feel under his fingers and hands, but it still needed to heal properly. Within a few minutes, Dean had a new bandage, this time with two thinner boards that would be easier to manoeuvre. Still, Dean hadn't noticed any of this aside from every little contact Mike made, every little touch, every brush of his fingers, every time that warm hand rested on his leg. He hadn't noticed any of it, until it was done.

Something stirred in Dean's chest, some strange ache when Mike's hand was no longer there, when there was no contact anymore. It was like Dean needed to feel him, to have him close. His heart started pounding when Mike covered him with a blanket and tucked him in. The man sniffed, his nose red and maybe a bit runny from the cold, but as he turned to leave, Dean grabbed his wrist and stopped him. Mike turned back around, confused and looked at Dean. They stared at one another for a few moments too long before Dean finally spoke.

"You're cold. Come on." For the second time that day, Dean beckoned him close and Michael complied, ducking under the covers and snuggling next to the hunter, his head using Dean's arm as a pillow. Dean started lazily running his fingers through Michael's hair and minutes later, the angel found himself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

There was a pleased little hum as Mike stirred, and Dean watched with a smile as the man inhaled deeply, like he was trying to memorize his scent, then open his eyes and looked up to him. Dean huffed a laugh at the small frown mixed with the clear confusion on the man's face and somehow knew it was more disbelief that Mike fell asleep, then uncomfort of his current position. The hunter opened his mouth to speak, when he was rudely interrupted by his own stomach.

Mike chuckled and wow, was that the best sound Dean had ever heard. Of course, he wondered from the very beginning if Mike was mute or just shy, and as time passed by, Dean landed on somewhere in between. Maybe the guy could speak, but had a speech impediment, and was shy and embarrassed by it, so staying silent was easier. 

"Yeah, I'm a bit hungry." Dean said with a hint of blush on his cheeks and Mike frowned before he turned to glance outside the window and then look at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 8PM and the fact that it was this late, clearly confused the man. Dean's stomach rumbled again, startling Mike out of his thou and the man jumped out of the bed and sprinted hit the door. "Mike, wait, what's...?" Dean tried, but Mike was already out the door.

Within an hour, Mike rekindled the fire, making the cabin warm again and made mac and cheese for them to eat. Dean was pleased that Mike choose to sit with him and for them to eat together.

The highlight was of course when later, Mike made popcorn, put on a cassette of yet another 90s movie and climbed into the bed next to Dean, this time, snuggling close like it was the most normal thing in the world. He threw an arm around Dean and flashed him a small smile before he focused on the movie. Dean spent the entire time with a wide grin, feeding Mike the popcorn.

After the movie ended, Mike went to put the bowl away, check on the fire and then crawled back to bed, blushing, but smiling, and Dean couldn't believe just how simple and easy it was to be this close to someone and just... Not think. Not worry. Just feel.

Dean looked at Mike, his vibrant green eyes beckoning the man to lock his gaze with Dean's. The hunter stared at those soft, kind eyes that seemed to open the man's soul to him, embracing Dean with their warmth. Dean's heart pounded in his chest, but he still wouldn't back down, not this time.

Dean licked his lips, wetting them, then leaned forward and like a magnet, Mike was drawn to him to. Soft lips met softer ones, slotting together perfectly and beginning their slow dance. Mike seemed shy or uncertain of what exactly to do, so Dean decided he would lead the way, keeping the kiss chaste and tender. He dragged his lips over Mike's, coming up to the corner of the man's mouth, and planting a tingling kiss there before coming back down to play with the plump lower lip. His head was in just the right position for a perfect butterfly kiss, so Dean let his long lashes caress the man's cheek as he traced Mike's lips with his own, mapping them to the finest detail.

After a few moments, Dean pulled away, curious and a bit fearful of seeing Mike's reaction. His heart fluttered like never before seeing the amazed look in those soft green eyes and a smile on the man's face.

Dean gasped, his eyes going wide, but his smile going wider, when past Mike's kiss swollen lips a single whispered word brushed.

"Wow."


	14. Kiss and tell

"Oh, wow." Dean responded, and immediately gasped. He did not want to sound like he was mocking Mike or something like that, he was genuinely astounded to hear his voice and delighted that it was his kiss that brought on such reaction.

Still, Mike's eyes widened and filled with fear, his lower lip shaking as he kept opening and closing his mouth, like he wanted to say more, but couldn't. His cheeks heated up, turning red and he broke eye contact, looking away in shame and started moving away from Dean, maybe even out of the bed.

"No, no, wait, please." Dean almost shouted, the heavy thud of his own heart shifting his hearing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so... Obnoxious. It's just... So amazing to hear your voice."

He tried to explain, but his words only seemed to worsen the situation. Mike shook his head, not meeting Dean's eyes and tried to pull away again. Dean reached and grabbed his wrist, sudden rush of panic shaking him to the very core.

"Please. Don't go." _Don't leave me._

Whether it was the fear in Dean's eyes, or the way his voice cracked, or maybe even the fact that Michael's whole heart ached for him, it didn't matter. Michael could not say no to Dean. So the man nodded with his eyes closed and allowed Dean to pull him closer into his warm embrace. Only one thing could ever compare to that - the way his Father's light shone upon him long time ago. But Michael believed, if he had access to his grace and could take a peek at Dean's soul, it would have shone brighter then anything his Father could produce.

With that notion, Michael snuggled even closer, nuzzling into Dean's neck and could feel the hunter take a deep, shuddering breath, and then hum it out, relaxing. Michael had never had the need for such physical contact, probably because he was an incorporeal being. _Was_. Now as a human, the touch, the closeness felt good, felt healing, so Michael moved even closer, and Dean just hummed his appreciation.

Dean smelt so nice.

Michael was so close and yet, to far.

Suddenly he wanted to feel more, and it would be so easy to just crane his own neck just a bit and place his lips on the hunter's skin. What kind of a reaction would that cause? He hoped Dean would like it, but he couldn't be sure, after all, he was only human for a little while. Dean was a hunter and knew that vampires would go for the neck, but still it felt like that Dean wouldn't interpret it as an attack.

Michael really wished he had more experience.

As if he could feel Michael's internal struggle, Dean just tightened his embrace, and held him close, and that was pretty much all it took. Michael peacefully drifted off to sleep.

* * *

  
Somewhere during the night, they switched and Michael found himself embracing Dean, the hunter's face buried in the crook of his neck. Waking up to his hot breath on his skin felt so nice, and some sweet tingles coursed through his body at the idea of Dean's lips on him. Dean's lips felt so nice, so soft and just like Dean - so teasing, but caring.

Dean hummed and stirred, bringing Michael out of his thoughts, and the angel looked down only to meet Dean's sleepy eyes and a pleased smile on his face.

"Morning." Dean said and moved away to stretch, hissing a bit as he moved his leg. "You are so warm, you know that?" Dean said as if he was trying to justify why he snuggled against the man. Michael just smiled wide, but shyly, his cheeks gaining a bit of colour.

He so wished to kiss Dean again, but remembered one of Dean's comments about morning breath, so he refrained, instead nudging his head towards the bathroom, silently asking if Dean wanted to freshen up.

Once again, he carried Dean into the shower and helped him strip, this time letting his fingers linger on the man's skin a bit longer then before. He left him to do his business while he brushed his teeth and then handed him the towel and underwear. After Dean brushed his teeth, Michael didn't wait a single second before leaning to kiss Dean. Right there in the shower.

After, Dean insisted he kept Michael company in the living room/kitchen while he made breakfast and Michael agreed as long as Dean kept his leg elevated. They ate pancakes again, and smiled and fed each other and were so tooth-rotten fluffy, a younger Dean would have pretended to barf. But this Dean knew, he always secretly enjoyed these kinds of moments, no matter how much he wanted to make it seem like he didn't.

Dean kept talking about everything, movies, music, creatures that go bump in the night, but every time he came close to mentioning Sam, Castiel or his purpose in the apocalypse, he cleverly averted the subject back to something funny. He didn't even tell Michael he had a brother. Like he didn't want reality to get in the way of what they had here. And maybe Michael didn't want to either.

They went outside again, set on the bench and watched the snow fall, then went inside to warm up and make dinner, all the time stealing kisses and tender touches, smiling at one another. Dean blushed a few times, but unlike Michael, his eyes didn't shy away, instead they watched the angel with such adoration, Michael couldn't help but feel a dull ache in his chest.

Never before has he felt so seen. And it hurt, because deep down, he knew Dean would one day learn the truth and it will hurt once he rejects him. And yet, Michael couldn't break these moments and speak up and tell Dean who he really was. Not when Dean kept stealing kisses from him while they watched yet another movie and ate popcorn, Dean's hand resting on Michael's chest as often as possible.

Once again, the angel's thoughts drifted towards Dean and his body and his soft skin and his strong muscles and how they would feel against his fingers or the palm of his hand, or under his lips. Dean was very talkative by nature, or was it to fill the silence Michael's lack of words left behind, but either way, the angel wanted to hear more. To hear his voice whisper things that would awake those tingles again, to hear him let out pleased sounds... To hear him call out Michael's name?

One would think it would be Michael that woke up with a throbbing erection the next morning, considering his thoughts the previous evening, but Dean surprised them both. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Michael seemed to have wrapped his leg around the man, his thigh pressing down on his crotch and as he shifted while waking up, he felt Dean's stiff member twitch in excitement while Dean let out a little moan, startling himself awake.

His eyes shot up wide and bore into Michael's once they found them. Dean was turning beet red, mortified and motionless and Michael carefully examined his expression. The hunter was clearly embarrassed, and scared awaiting Michael's reaction. One thing the angel learned so far about Dean was that the man, much like him, had some abandonment issues and he so much wanted to tell Dean he would be there, but knew well he couldn't make that promise. Because Dean might not want him there once he learned the truth.

So why not enjoy the time they had? Why not reach and take charge of what they wanted?

Michael never asked for anything in his whole existence, so he got nothing. Maybe it was time he started asking for things. Doing what he wanted to do, not what he was told.

He didn't have much knowledge, but he would allow to be guided, just for a chance to experience things the way humans did. For a chance to get even closer to Dean, to feel him, every part of him. With that thought in mind, Michael slowly removed his leg off Dean, and bit down on his lower lip as he let the hand that was on Dean's chest travel south.

Dean swallowed hard, his breath hitching, slight confusion and disbelief flashing in his eyes before realization hit that Michael's hand won't stop. His heart pounded louder with each beat, but he just kept staring at those soft green eyes, those kind and curious eyes and wondered what he did to deserve them.


	15. Teachable moment

Dean's mouth dropped open when Mike's hand swept over his stomach (fuck how he wished he didn't have a shirt on) and kept going lower and lower and the best/worst thing was - Mike was staring at him. 

His eyes, that paler shade of green, usually so soft and kind were wide and freaking huge and it was like the man could see straight to his soul. It was like they were drawing him, singing to him, pulling him. Dean's own eyes were locked into them, and he just couldn't look away.

He sucked a small breath and his lower lip shook when those soft fingers cupped his erection and damn you underwear!! Even with them on, Dean could still feel the warmth that spread from that hand to his neither regions and it felt so good. It moved a bit, testing or teasing while Dean let out that breath in a shaky manner, his eyes never parting Mike's.

There was a spark of uncertainty in them that Dean did not know how to interpret. Maybe Mike wasn't sure if Dean would like this? Or maybe he hadn't done anything like this before, not with another man? Well, Dean certainly hasn't either, but he knew what he would like if he was in Mike's shoes, so the guy couldn't really go wrong there. No it had to be fear that Dean would not like this, and then it would be awkward, so Dean needed to move, speak, do freaking anything to let the man know he should very much continue.

Yet, there Dean was, stupefied by those big green eyes, unable to utter one word or move a single muscle. Mike bit his lower lip and pulled it in his mouth as his hand moved over Dean's dick, up and under his shirt, his fingers teasing the skin of his stomach and just under the waistband.

_Sweet Jesus on a tortilla, this guy is gonna drive me insane!_

Dean could not wait to feel those slim fingers wrapped around his length, feel them stroking, and soon enough, Mike was there, right there, his hand sliding in Dean's underwear, just past his rock hard cock and down to his balls. Dean's breath shook as that hand moved up, caressing it's way over his nuts and finally, _finally_ wrapped itself around Dean's throbbing member.

Something between an moan and a hum escaped Dean and _oh, wow!_ Mike's eyes grew even wider. In his surprise, he released his lower lip and it was so big and red and glistering and just so freaking inviting...

Dean grabbed Mike by the neck and yanked him closer, sucking in that lower lip, completely ignoring the fact that the guy's hand was still motionless on his dick. Until it wasn't. First accidental stoke had Dean whining as he kept kissing the man, and Mike must have picked up that Dean was really enjoying this because he finally started moving that hand on purpose.

On the third stroke Dean broke the kiss, moaned loudly and threw his head back, exposing his neck, and _holy hell_ Mike must have seen it as an invitation because he dived in and started kissing Dean's neck, softly and tenderly and lightly and insanely slow Dean was seconds away from loosing it.

Or no seconds at all.

Dean would comfort himself later and say it was because he was pent up, it's been a while, and this thing with Mike was something new, but he fact remained he came embarrassingly fast, just because of one thought.

The thought that started with _Crap, he's gonna make me cream my underwear._ and ended with _Oh, shit, these are his underwear!!!_ With just the idea that these underwear (thought washed), touched Mike's dick and we're wrapped around his cute little ass was more then enough to make Dean blow.

His cock twitched in Mike's hand and erupted, coating the man's hand and everything else, as Dean shouted out. While still panting hard, he quickly brought his head down to meet Mike's eyes, because he just needed them, needed to see, needed to know.

Strangely enough, the guy seemed startled by Dean's reaction, his brows curling in curiosity and slight caution. It was as if he had never seen a dick ejaculate semen before. For the first time since they began, Mike broke contact and looked down as he took his hand out of Dean's underwear. 

"Ho-holy mother fucking sh-sh-shit!" Dean stuttered as he watched Mike bring his sperm covered hand to his face, sniff it and then lick it clean. The sight alone could have made Dean climax of he hadn't done so just moments ago.

Mike met his eyes again, but quickly looked away, a big blush creeping up on his face.

"You are gonna give me a heart attack, you know?" Dean joked, huffing a laugh, but then paused. When he thought about it, it really seemed like Mike had never seen an orgasm before. But he was a dude, he must have had sex before. Or at least a hand job, right? The very least, he must have jerked himself off, right? Right?

"Mike?" Dean tried but the man would look up, he wouldn't meet Dean's eyes. "Mike, look at me." He said and with a light touch he lifted the guy's chin. "Mike, are you a virgin?"

Mike might have let Dean raise his head, but he pulled away as soon as Dean asked and looked away again, his expression moving from embarrassed to sad, and damnit, Dean just wanted to hug him and comfort him.

"Hey, look at me... Mike? Please?" That did the trick and Mike lifted his head. Dean smiled kindly at him as his hand came up to caress the man's cheek. "It is okay. Nothing to be embarrassed about. I could show you... Everything."

A spark of gratitude ignited in Mike's eyes as he nodded and allowed Dean to pull him into a tender kiss. And Dean? Dean just couldn't wait to introduce the man to the pleasures of the flesh.


	16. Superior feeling

It started with a tender kiss and Dean's hand on Michael's shoulder, but it gradually became more passionate and Michael had to confess, he really enjoyed it. His entire body felt like it was on fire and electrified and liquid all in the same time and it felt... Someone might say it felt heavenly. But to Michael, who knew well what Heaven felt like, this was so much better. So much better then the warmth of his father's light.

Dean would capture his lip sometimes and it sent pleasant shivers down his spine, other times he would use that wicked tongue if his and twirl it around Michael's, and that would make tiny jolts prickle just under his skin, but the best part, the absolute favorite were Dean's lips. Soft and tender, they would leave this amazing sensation everywhere they went and it was the best feeling in the world.

Michael lost track of how long they have been kissing, but figured it must have been long because Dean broke the kiss panting and he would always do that when he needed more air. Even Michael himself felt oxygen deprived, so each breath was a welcoming one. If his body didn't remind him occasionally, he would forget he needed to breathe now. It is such a human feeling, but he felt it grounded him, and in a good way. Kept him anchored to Earth, to reality, otherwise he might have floated away to the stars and gotten lost for then next millennia or two. And miss this. And he did not want to miss this.

Dean smiled at him, his eyes hooded and filled with excitement, Michael could feel him radiate with it, spreading it around like a disease. And the angel was infected, completely. Unconsciously, he bit down on his lip, some residual nervous tick his vessel used to have, but he didn't mind it, not when it drew Dean's attention and made him press his lips against Michael's once more.

Only this time, his hand didn't remain on Michael's shoulder, but travelled up his neck to his jawline and Michael could feel himself melt to the touch as his body released small hums of appreciation. He never knew how good a simple touch could be. The connection it made, a single touch to show the mind one is not all alone in this big world. And Dean's touches were by far the most... Calming and thrilling at the same time, it was extraordinary. To feel two completely different things at the same time, the paradox of it...

He might have been _the_ most powerful archangel in the whole world, second to God Himself, but not even he had the power to do something like this. Well, at least until he rendered himself human. He saw, he felt what his touches did to Dean and he wanted to feel it too, and Dean was more then willing to show him.

Dean's hand lingered on Michael's neck for a few minutes, his thumb brushing over the yaw line, and then it travelled down, over his collarbone and to his chest and Michael arched to the touch, needing to feel more, needing it now. Dean's fingers left a fiery trail in their wake, and he could feel it pool in the pit of his stomach, but he didn't dare move, not when Dean's hand wandered lower and then under his shirt and it was so warm and soft and it felt so good Michael completely forgot himself and allowed Dean to lift the shirt up and tug it so that Michael would remove it.

The angel's eyes grew wide when he heard Dean say "Oh, cool tat. Is that a protection sigil?" and grew even wider when Dean started tracing it with his fingers. Michael could feel the grace under it bubble and reach out to Dean, to his touch and he flinched. The action made Dean's eyes snap up at him, his whole hand accidentally pressing against the sigil on his hip. Michael gasped and quickly moved back, not daring to meet Dean's eyes.

"This isn't a tattoo, someone caved this into you. Why?" Dean asked but Michael shook his head, then pointed a finger at himself, still not meeting Dean's eyes. "You did this? Why would you do that?" Dean asked, his voice calm and caring and filled with concern. Michael felt bad, how could he tell him? He shouldn't lie to him, he knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to tell him that. So he did the only thing that made sense and like a little child, he hid his face in his hands.

"Oh, to hide? Does this shield you from angels? Maybe even demons?" Dean asked carefully and it would be easy, wouldn't it? Just nod and agree, take the exit the man so easily provided. And Michael was just weak enough to do it, too. Weaker then even this human before him. How could they ever think angels were superior beings?

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to talk about it, alright?" Dean said and reached to remove Michael's hands of his face, and the angel allowed it, and it really was worth it, to see that bright smile of Dean's again. Oh, how good it felt, how healing it was to see it. How bright he shined...

Michael surged forward and captured Dean's lips in a needy kiss, startling the man, but he quickly regained himself and kissed back, pouring all the comfort and strength into the kiss making Michael silently whimper. He did not deserve it. He did not deserve Dean. But just this once, could he not have what he wanted? He reached and pulled Dean closer, the man almost falling forward and on top of him. He only managed to stay on his side because his leg was still boarded-up, in a makeshift cast Michael made for him. But his hand ended up back on Michael's chest, and the angel gasped feeling the warm hand on his bare skin. 

The gasp caused him to open his mouth and Dean immediately took advantage and sucked in Michael's lower lip while his hand caressed over the angel's chest and to his nipple. The second those soft fingers brushed over Michael's nipple, a powerful jolt wrecked his system making the angel shout out. To that, Dean pulled away only to smirk at Michael then dived down and captured the other one between his lips. Michael gasped so much, taking in a lot of air and instantly feeling lightheaded, the feeling only amplifying the sensations his body was experiencing. 

Dean playing with his nipple, altering from wetting it with his hot tongue to catching it between his teeth, applying the slightest pressure made Michael feel as though there were millions of fire ants crawling over his vessel's skin, setting him ablaze. He didn't even feel Dean's hand leave his chest and travel down, until those smooth fingers slipped in his underwear and wrapped themselves around his vessel's erection.

A loud scream exploded in the room as Michael orgasm ripped itself from him, his voice erupting along it a booming _aaaaaah_ , his mind completely submerged into that ecstatic feeling, one Michael had never experienced before and was beyond anything he could ever imagine.

He turned his big eyes over to meet Dean as he tried to regain his breath and his senses, and whatever Dean saw in his expression must have eased his worry, the concern in his stunning green eyes melting into something softer and affectionate. He leaned in to just brush his lips against Michael's for a second, then pulled away a smiled adoringly.

"Aaaaaand now we both need a shower." Dean said and made Michael laugh, feeling so good, elevated and light as a feather, completely carefree.


	17. Learning curve

Mike's hands shook as he placed a trash bag over Dean's leg and duct-taped it, so no water would come in contact with his almost healed wound. Dean watched him curiousily from his little stool as the man crouched next to him and fumbled with his leg. Dean grabbed his wrist to make him stop and look up at Dean.

"Hey. You okay?" Dean asked. Maybe the guy was having second thoughts about what they did and now felt trapped, as if Dean would expect him to do more.

But, holy hell, Mike just smiled widely at Dean before catching himself, then looking away, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks as he just nodded.

Oh, he was more then okay, that's for sure. His hands started carefully caressing over Dean's exposed tight as he seemingly checked for any weak spots and then reluctantly pulled away.

He was about to walk out of the shower and let Dean have some privacy, but didn't notice Dean was still holding his wrist. When it caught, causing him to stop, he turned and looked at Dean questioningly.

"Stay. Let me show you more." Dean offered, making Mike's eyes grow wide. The man bit down on his lower lip, desire clear in his eyes, as they roamed all over Dean's body, pausing at his wrapped up leg with a dose of uncertainty.

"It'll be fine. Let me show you more, and then after, you could help me wash up..." Dean sweetened the deal and smirked as Mike gasped at those words. The man nodded and Dean let go of his wrist to reach for the man's hips, gripping them firmly, but not too tight as he maneuvered him deeper into the shower and right in front of Dean.

Mike was breathing heavily already, but Dean didn't drag it along, just carefully slid the man's underwear off of him. God, he really was a virgin. Considering Dean made him come just a few minutes ago, Dean was correct to assume the refractory period would be shorter, but even he didn't expect Mike to be this erect already.

Dean unintentionally licked his lips staring right at that substantial cock.

He quickly snapped out of it and picked up a sponge, running it under lukewarm water before cleaning what was left of their last session. He made sure not to touch Mike's skin with his fingers, not yet.

Only after he was done, did Dean glance up at Mike, seeing if the man was still okay and just as eager as Dean was. Mike had his eyes closed and was slightly shaking, so Dean took his hand in his and guided to his shoulder.

"Here, hold on to me. If at any moment you want to stop, just squeeze my shoulder, okay?" Mike nodded down at him and Dean continued. "I am going to lean in now and... This is what's going to happen. I am going to lick your dick with my tongue and then I am going to take it in my mouth, and it should feel good, but if it doesn't, if you want me to stop at any moment, just squeeze my shoulder and I'll stop."

Dean felt a little silky saying all of this, but the sight of Mike's deep blush made him quickly forget it. He leaned in, just as he said he would, supporting himself by putting his hands on the man's thighs, then stuck his tongue out at Mike's dick and licked a long stripe from the base to the head. Just as he reached the head, Mike squeezed his shoulder so hard, it was bound to bruise. Dean backed away immediately.

"What's wrong?" He asked, but the expression on Mike's face combined with the clear quivering of his cock and the big bead if precum that leaked was indication enough. "Too much?" Mike shook his head.

"You feel like you're gonna cum?" Mike nodded, not daring to open his eyes. Dean paused just looking up at the man in his debauched state and loving what he saw. His own dick perked up, filling out a bit and oh, yeah, Dean was so turned on by this.

"Normally, I would say don't hold back and let it happen, but... I want you to last just a bit longer...I just want you to feel what it is like..." Dean said, caressing Mike's thighs. "Can I... There is a way you could last a bit longer, but it might hurt, just a little bit... I could... I could out my hand on you and use my fingers to create a tight ring around the base of your dick and cut of the circulation, long enough to swallow you down."

Mike made a sort of a squeak at that, his eyes flying open to stare at Dean, to bore into him and reach his very soul. They were so beautiful and soft, green and affectionate and disbelieving and teary and did all sorts of things to Dean, especially when the fell closed and Dean saw Mike nodded, wanting it. Wanting Dean to show him.

Mike's breath hiccuped as Dean wrapped his fingers around him, his hand shivering on Dean's shoulder, but not squeezing, even when Dean's fingers did. Dean angled him downward a bit, licked his lips before wrapping them around the head of Mike's cock. In one smooth motion he slid down, not all the way, but enough for Mike to get a feel of the wetness and warmth of Dean's mouth.

Mike was panting and allowing little breaths of _ah, ah, ah_ to escape him as Dean sank down, turning louder as Dean slid up and down again.

Dean pressed the flat of his tongue against the head of the cock and could feel the exact moment Mike's cock started to expand, the tight ring Dean's fingers created not holding anymore. Mike shouted out as his orgasm ripped out of him, and even though Dean wanted to stay and swallow all the man had to offer, Mike's unintentionally shoved him off with that hand on his shoulder and ended up spraying ropes of hot white cum all over Dean's face and chest.

"Oh!" He exclaimed as he crouched down in front of Dean and immediately tried to wipe it all off his face with his hand and fingers. He was clearly surprised and sorry for what happened, but Dean didn't mind.

"Don't oh! me. You liked it. You liked marking me, didn't you?" Dean said as soon as he was able to open his eyes and watched as Mike's expression turned from appalling, to contemplating to blushing like crazy, as if he just learned a new thing about himself. Dean smirked and startled Mike with a short kiss, a mere brush of his lips before he pulled away.

"Well. Now I really do need that shower." 


	18. Heaven is a place on Earth

Michael had no clue why, but the idea of marking Dean, as outrageous as it was, was extremely thrilling. And somehow empowering. It felt a bit like when Father left and he took over and every angel looked up to him for guidance, but better. More personal. More intimate. Those angel looked up to him but not with such adoration and need as Dean did. Those angels needed a leader. Dean needed him.

Nobody really ever needed him. Nobody wanted him.

They wanted something from him, but not him. They needed someone to command them, to lead them, to tell them what to do. Dean didn't need that, he had a mind and will of his own. And he still wanted him. This, down to Earth him. The man he wanted to be.

Realizing he was staring at Dean, Michael blushed, but couldn't tear his eyes away. Those green gemstones were watching him, smiling kindly at him and it felt so good, to be seen. Dean's hand reached up and caressed Michael's cheek and he just leaned into the touch, hungry for it.

"God, you're so..." Dean muttered, but didn't finish. Michael chose to disregard the mention of his Father, knowing it was just a phase, an emphasis. It was what Dean didn't say that was important, and despite the fact the words didn't cross his lips, Michael knew. He knew what Dean wanted to say and it made him feel... Things he had never felt before. He had loved his Father, but never with such intensity, with such... Burning desire, and not just of the physical kind.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Michael let his eyes fall close and he swallowed, trying to calm his beating heart after coming to the realization that he... He loved Dean. More then he ever thought it was possible. More then he ever loved his Father.

"Hey... You ok?" Dean asked, forcing Michael to open his eyes, because there was a clear distress in his voice, and Michael couldn't handle Dean worrying about him. He gave him a small, reassuring smile, and wanted to do much more, but it seemed to be enough for Dean, who leaned closer and kissed him tenderly, Michael felt his heart might explode in his chest. "Sorry to break the moment, but we really need to finish with the shower, or the water is going to run cold." Dean said with a smile, one which Michael returned and nodded.

Right, he was supposed to wash Dean. Oh... He was supposed to wash Dean. He was allowed to touch him and caress him, and the notion made his mind sway for only a moment before he shook it off.

He took the soap and started rubbing it gently into Dean's chest, his fingers taking every opportunity to touch the soft skin.

There were some scars along the way, but nothing too big, and even if there were, Michael knew that it was mostly healed by angelic assistance. He decided not to dwell on the past too much, instead to focus on Dean and the feel of his body under Michael's hands.

Michael was nothing if not thorough, making sure he led the soap across every inch of Dean's arms, neck, back, kneading the tense muscles along the way. Gradually, Dean's breathing deepened and when Michael met his eyes, they were maybe a bit distant, like Dean was spacing out, but would snap back to look at him with so many emotions written in them, Michael couldn't make sense of them all. His pupils were blown wide, and he kept gulping as if his mouth were running dry.

Michael washed his unhurt leg, and looked up to Dean, uncertain how to proceed with the last part of his body. The pausing of Michael's ministrations must have sobered Dean up, because he seemed to have snapped out of his daze and smiled at Michael.

"I got it from here." He said, but extended his hand and held it on Michael's shoulder as he lifted himself slightly to remove the soaking underwear. His cock bobbed free and Michael sucked in a silent breath when he saw it.

It wasn't completely erect, but it was pretty close. It seemed so big in Dean's hand, as the hunter washed himself, all nice and glistering. It was so inviting. The body part it self maybe wasn't that much entrancing as much as it was the fact that Michael knew just how good it felt to have that body part stimulated.

Michael licked his upper lip, his tongue brushing over the lower one before he unintentionally sucked it into his mouth. He noticed Dean had stopped and he looked up at him, finally ceasing his open stare on Dean's dick.

"You're gonna give a heart attack, you know?" Dean said and Michael's eyes went wide as he got back up on his feet and stepped back, fearing that any of his actions might cause Dean's death. "Hey, no, it's okay. I just meant... the way you stare at me with hungry eyes... It does things to me. You are so..." Once again, he trailed off, smiling as he shook his head.

"Help me up." Dean finally said, clearly finished with the cleaning, and even if Michael wanted to feast his eyes on Dean's bare body, he had to agree, it was getting cold and about time they got out of the shower.

Michael helped him out and helped him get dressed using every opportunity to touch more of Dean. The hunter didn't seem to mind, or maybe he even enjoyed it, Michael couldn't tell. He lead him back to the bed and helped him lie down before removing the trash bag and the bandages to check Dean's injury.

"How long do you think I'll have to wear the planks?" Dean questioned and Michael frowned. He wasn't sure and without access to his grace he couldn't make an accurate prediction. But then again, if he could tap into his grace, Dean wouldn't be hurt anymore. It made him feel sad and guilty.

"Well, the longer it takes, the longer I get to have you carry me around, so I'm good." Dean said as if he sensed Michael's anguish, and the angel couldn't help the small smile that crept up on his face. "And I get to have you make me those delicious pancakes for breakfast too." Dean added with a wiggle of his eyebrows and Michael laughed.

He nodded eventually, and cleaned Dean's wound, bandaging him back up, then turning to head to the kitchen. Michael stopped when he felt Dean's hand on his wrist, and turned around to meet Dean's eyes. They were so green and vibrant, and there was even a spark of something in them, but Michael couldn't know what it was.

Dean pulled him by the hand and Michael leaned down, and letting Dean pull him into a kiss. It was so tender and loving, it made Michael dizzy, but in a good way. Dean looked up at him with a wide smile, then pulled him down for another, longer, deeper kiss, a kiss so charged with unspoken emotions, Michael felt like his chest might explode.

He finally understood that human phrase 'died and went to Heaven.'


	19. By my side

Dean was so excited when Mike decided to pull out a big piece of ham from his storage and cook it for lunch. But what really bought him was the side of the oven-backed potatoes to go with the ham. While it was roasting, Dean persuaded Mike to play a few rounds of poker and it was so funny watching Mike trying to hide his excitement whenever he had a good hand. Considering he knew how to play poker, Dean thought he might know what a poker face was, but, no... Dean watched him with amusement and even let him win a few times.

While Mike prepared to serve the ham, Dean played a couple of games of solitaire, telling Mike exactly how he played, explaining the game. After they ate, Dean humming at all the flavors and complementing Mike on his cooking skills, making the man blush like crazy. It was a look Dean loved to see on him.

Mike took care of the dishes and checked on Dean's leg, and only once Dean assured him he was fine, did Mike allow him to remain in the kitchen with his leg propped up instead if going back to that boring bed.

Dean watched him clean around, watched him feed the fire and waited on him when Mike stepped out to fetch more wood. When he was done, the man brought a chess board to the table, his brow raised and Dean agreed to play. Chess wasn't his favorite game, but he had played it many times with Sam, he was rather good.

But apparently so was Mike. The man made some crazy, unpredictable moves and beat Dean every single time with almost nothing but two chess pieces left on the board. It was amazing to see him so good at something, Dean had no idea the man was such a good strategies.

It was later, right after dinner that Mike paused with plates in his hands and looked out of the window. Dean turned, but saw and heard nothing. "What is it?" He asked, but Mike was already taking the plates to the sink, shaking his head. He pointed to his ear and then waved his hand and Dean knew it meant that Mike thought he heard something, bit that it was nothing. It was so interesting how Dean could understand him without the man actually saying one word to him.

Not that Dean didn't wish Mike could talk. Tell him what he liked, tell him about his life, tell him about himself. Tell him about how green Dean's eyes were? How good it felt to kiss Dean?

Dean could be just projecting.

He liked kissing Mike. The man was so responsive and so innocent and would gasp whenever Dean did something new. Dean loved showing him everything, he loved to see the man fall apart under his touches, and he loved how quickly Mike caught on and just followed Dean's lead. 

They got ready for bed and watched another movie, Dean constantly drawing Mike's attention away with his kissing. His lips were all over Mike, mostly his neck and shoulder and whatever other part he could reach while the man was still lying on his back. Dean's hand roamed around the man's chest, under his shirt, just caressing, nothing more. Dean couldn't wait for the movie to end, so that Mike could focus all of his attention on him.

The second the credits rolled, Dean pulled Mike's hand until the man turned to face him, and caught his lips in a breathtaking kiss. Mike was getting really good at this, surprising Dean by catching his lower lip and sucking it into his mouth, making Dean go crazy with arousal that would flood him. 

God, he was already so hard and they were just making out. It was mind-blowing, the effect the man had on him, how he could be strong and take control, but also allow Dean to teach him. They were so similar, both strong and caring and both willing to take charge if the other one needed it. And Dean needed it.

"Mike... I... I need you, I want... I need..." Dean tried, still not really figuring out what he wanted. Mike broke the kiss and looked at him, like a good little soldier, waited for further instructions. Dean took a moment to catch his breath, an idea forming in his mind.

"Take... Take of your underwear... Then help me with mine..." Dean said and bit down on his lower lip as Mike obeyed, lifting his ass off the mattress to slide the briefs down, revealing his erection. His dick was red and firm and so perfect and Dean just wanted to suck down on it and make Mike fall apart. 

But he had something else in mind for tonight, so he carefully pushed the thought back in his spank bank and lifted his own ass slightly so that Mike could remove his underwear too. He hugged a smile, seeing Mike's fingers flexing as if he wanted to touch, but wasn't sure if he should.

"I will... Always... Want your hands on me, alright?" Dean said and Mike smiled then tentatively reached and wrapped his fingers around Dean's throbbing cock. God, that felt good.

"We got... We got any lube?" Dean asked, trying to focus on something else other then the strong hand stroking him. He wanted so badly to reach and return the favor, but feared Mike might cum before they even had a chance to play around. At the question, Mike frowned, and looked contemplating for a moment before nudging his head in the direction of the draw on Dean's side of the bed.

Dean threw his hand out and blindly searched for the nightstand, then for the drawer handle, then rummaged through it. "Aha!" He exclaimed as he found it and brought it up in the air, Mike just rasing a brow at him and not finding Dean's actions as funny as he should.

The lube was old, but luckily not expired and Dean wondered if Mike ever used it? He was a virgin, but he must have jacked himself off a few times, right? It didn't matter, not with him so close, he was almost pressing his hard on against Dean's thigh.

"Alright, this is what's gonna happen. Since I can't move, with this damn leg and all, you are gonna have to get on top of me. Get up." Dean said and Mike was quick to follow the instructions. There was a bit of uncertainty in his eyes, he was probably worried about Dean's leg, but he still seemed eager to do what Dean told him to. He trusted Dean enough to know he wouldn't let himself get hurt.

"Okay, now. You're gonna straddle me. Come closer and put your left knee here, just at my right hip, the other one on the opposite side and sit on my thighs." Dean instructed and Mike did as he was told, moving carefully, mindful of Dean's injured leg. His dick came just above Dean's and there was a curious look in his eyes, as he watched Dean squirt some of that lube in his hand and coating his cock with it.

Dean smiled up at him, a teasing look in his eyes. He chose not to tell Mike what's gonna happen next, instead letting the man find out on his own. "Come here and gimme a kiss." Dean said and watched Mike lean forward, pausing mid way with a sharp intake of breath as his dick pressed against Dean's. "Come on." Dean urged with a small smile, and Mike moved closer, his dick sliding off of Dean's and slotting next to it. He kissed Dean, his breaths short and rugged.

"Feels good?" Dean asked and Mike's eyes snapped open to stare in his. He nodded vigorously and earned himself a wide, pleased smile from Dean. "Okay, I'm gonna help you feel even better okay? Just follow my lead."

Dean's hands caressed up Mike's arms, over his shoulder blades and down his back to the man's firm little ass. Dean just had to squeeze those perfect round globes for a moment, they fitted so perfectly in his hands. Mike's head was burried in the crook of his Dean's neck and he was already a shaking mess by the time Dean's pressed down and up, making the man grind against him. 

He had no idea what was better, the friction, the feel of Mike's dick sliding against his own, or the small hiccuping sounds the man was letting out along with hot breaths on Dean's neck, right under his ear. "Yeah... Just like that..." Dean said as he urged Mike to move on top of him. "You feel so good, babe, so amazing..."

"Eeee..." Dean thought he heard Mike let out through his breath, another amazing sound spurring Dean on to up the pace.

"Keep moving, don't stop..." Dean urged, hearing Mike's breathing turn into rapid panting. The man was close, but Dean was right there with him, he just needed a little more.

"Eeee..."

"I know, baby, I know, just a little more... God, you feel so good. I want... Ohhhh... I want to show you so much more, I want to make you feel it all... It feels good, doesn't it? Tell me... Show me..."

Mike moved on top of him faster and faster, like Dean showed him, his body pressed against Dean's, their chest touching. He was everywhere, blanketing Dean and it felt so damn good, Dean was getting lost in the sensations. Mike whimpered at Dean's question, and one of Dean's hands let go of Mike's ass, shooting up and caressing the man's back.

"I know baby, just a little more. I am so close, so fucking close..."

"Eeee..." It was a whine, so needy and pleading and Dean knew it wasn't fair to ask the man to hold off his orgasm.

"It's okay, baby... Let go... Cum. Cum for me..."

Dean felt the man tense up above him, his muscles spasming and Mike came with another strangled whine "Deeee..." 

Holy shit, that sounded like his name. Mike said his name. High in the thrones of passion, a man who didn't speak called out his name.

Spurred by that though, his orgasm ripped it of him, nearly blinding him. Mike was still on top of him, just riding that high went Dean's cock exploded between them, coating them both as Dean moaned out the man's name loudy.

Took them almost ten minutes to catch their breaths, Mike still laying on top of him, but Dean didn't mind, he didn't mind one bit. He actually loved it and felt a bit cold when Mike rose up and got off.

"I am better then okay. That was... Wow." Dean answered Mike's questioning gaze, and huffed a laugh as the man nodded, agreeing. Mike disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a wet cloth, wiping Dean down. Dean had no idea what made him snap his hand up and grab Mike's wrist to make him pause and look at Dean. He had no idea what made him say the following words, but deep down, he knew he meant them.

"I don't know what this is... What we are... But I know it feels good. It feels so fucking good. You make me feel so good. And if I could choose... I would choose to make you feel good too... For a long time... I would... I would choose to have you by my side... For as long as you'd have me..."

His heart nearly exploded when Mike kissed him with so much emotions in that simple kiss, then backed away and nodded, pure adoration in his light green eyes.


	20. Winchester luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reader found this story and made a few comments that made me smile and made me want to write. So, thanks to [Ace_The_Enby96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_The_Enby96) , here is another chapter for you all.

The day started off beautifully. Just like yesterday, Dean got to wake up arms full of this wonderous man who looked at him as if Dean hung the moon. Cheesy, I know, but that was how Dean felt. Filled with tooth rotting, rom-com, chick flick fluffy romance, and he didn't even care.

Once again, he was rewarded with blushing smiles and ginger touches and they felt so good, so healing, Dean never knew he could feel this way.

He got to share another amazing shower with this strong and yet insecure man, got to have his hands on him, caressing, washing, dressing. He got to feel his soft lips brush against his, shyly each time Mike initiated a kiss, and so eager when it was Dean that leaned in first.

Since they woke early, Mike made them eggs and bacon, and Dean just felt so overwhelmed and touched when the man gave up on his portion of bacon and gave it to Dean.

Alas, the Winchester luck was such that all good things must come to an end. That's about how Dean felt when he tried to get up by himself and the chair slipped as he was leaning against it, making him stumble and hit his hurt leg on the table. He cried out, and Mike was right there in an instant, catching him before he fell, worry written all over his face.

Guided by the man, Dean limped to the bed and cursed himself a few times, frustrated with his injury and his uselessness. He just knew Mike wouldn't let him out of the bed all day, and he wouldn't be around the man as much as he would like to. He ended up spending most of the morning trying to catch a glimpse of Mike as the man fussed around in the kitchen and brought in the fire wood, took care of whatever there was to take care of, like he did every day.

There was a wide smile on Dean's face when finally, _finally_ Mike came over, a tray filled with sandwiches in hand. Not that Dean wasn't hungry, but it was that warm smile and that kind look in those soft green eyes that just... Took his breath away.

They ate the ham sandwiches Mike made from leftovers, both very much unable to tear their eyes off one another, and once they were done, Mike just set the trays to the side, crawled up in bed next to Dean and kissed him stupid.

Dean had no idea when their kissing session became a nap, how he could go from melting from the kisses to snuggling next to the man and falling asleep, but he did. And was startled awake by Mike's sudden flinch. Dean's eyes snapped up, Mike's warm hand pressing down on his chest, keeping him in place as Mike's eyes stared out of the window, chilling silence filling the room. Mike turned and pressed his finger against his lips, telling Dean to be quiet without actually shushing him and slowly got out of the bed, crouching next to it.

He reached under the bed blindly, his eyes still observing his surroundings and pulled out a gun. He cocked it, flipped the safety off and handed it to Dean then got up on his feet. Dean wanted to protest, but Mike moved to the bedroom door, blindly reached for a picture on the wall next to it, opened the frame and pulled out another gun. Dean would have been amazed if it wasn't for a possible immanent threat lurking outside.

Dean tried to move, but Mike held his hand up to make him stop, then pointed to the ground with his forefinger, telling Dean to stay put. Dean let out a displeased grunt and Mike's eyes snapped at him, glaring him down into submission, Dean didn't know if he was more shocked or aroused by it.

The second Mike stepped out of the bedroom and out of the cabin, something in Dean's chest tightened, he was suddenly consumed by a feeling he did not like. He hated being helpless and hated letting anyone he cared about go into something without backup.

The bad feeling grew the longer things remained quiet, but then suddenly there was shouting and some commotion and Dean was sure that wasn't Mike. Dean's heart rate skyrocketed and as the panic started to consume him, he thought _Screw this!_ and started the painful process of getting out of bed. But then silence befell and the room echoed with nothing but Dean's rapid breaths and it was worse. A million NOs filled his mind and he started moving frantically to get up.

The front door creaked open and Dean froze for a millisecond before taking the gun in a firm grip and pointing it at the bedroom door. For the first time in his life, his hands shook as he held it aimed and held his breath as the footsteps echoed in the dead silence.

Dean's heart skipped a beat when Mike came into view, hands raised leveling his shoulders, and expression closed off, unreadable, eyes flickering to meet Dean's gaze. The hunter took a breath of air, preparing himself for the threat as their gun came into view next. All he had to do was breath out and squeeze the trigger. Simple as that.

"Dean?" A voice sounded before a big heap of hair came into the view and Dean quickly snapped the gun up, so that if it did fire, it would shoot in the ceiling and not his brother.

"Jesus, fuck, Sam! I nearly shot you!"


	21. Right here,  with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been getting some nice comments and reviews (FF) on this story lately, so I pushed out two chapters this week. One was earlier and we saw Sam enter the picture. Let's see how things develop from here.

Michael had no idea how he managed to sense something was off, considering his grace was contained and hidden within his vessel, maybe it was the instincts of the previous host, maybe 'Mike' had placed some sort of alarm-charms all over the woods and connected himself with them. Michael was worried to leave Dean behind, especially since his leg took a slight turn for the worse, but he had no choice, he had to face the danger head-on.

He rounded the corner of his cabin, his footsteps screeching in the snow, and came face to face with their guest. He paused, his gun raised and trained at the familiar looking figure.

"Where is my brother, what did you do to him?" Sam shouted. "His car is back in town and I know he came here. Tell me, or so help me, I will put a bullet in you right now."

There was a moment that could seem like this whole thing was a stand off, but what it was, was actually Michael realizing this was Sam, Dean's brother and that the whole thing they had going on was... Over. So forgive him if he took a moment to come to terms with that.

Michael turned his gun away from Sam and held it in a non-threatening way, slowly crouching down. He placed the gun on the ground and took a few steps back, clearly indicating he surrendered. Sam frowned at him, and without taking his eyes of the man, picked up the gun, switched the safety on and tucked it behind his back. He did not want to shoot himself in the ass.

"Where is he?!" Sam demanded and even held at gunpoint, Michael couldn't bring himself to speak up. He would never know if it was some effect of him depowering his grace or a belated psychological issue of his vessel, all he knew was that he was tongue-tied, and not really wanting to talk anyway. So Michael just nudged his head towards the house and Sam made him turn around, his gun at the back of the man's head and the other hand on his shoulder as he forced him to lead the way.

The look on Dean's face before he saw it was actually his brother there, was a murderous one, and Heaven help him, for a moment there Michael wished it was that easy, just make Sam disappear and he could go back to being with Dean.

"Jesus, fuck, Sam! I nearly shot you!" Dean yelled, and Michael could feel Sam's sigh of relief on the back of his neck. It was not pleasant.

"What happened?" Sam asked, his gun still at the back of Michael's head. Considering his grace was locked up, there was a pretty good chance he would die if Sam squeezed the trigger and there was really no way of telling if he could come back from that. So, no, it was not a pleasant feeling.

"Would you take the damn gun off Mike's head?" Dean told his brother, leveling him with a glare that suggested that, even if he phrased it as a question, it was a command.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Sam said and gave Mike a sheepish smile before turning to his brother again, asking the same "What happened?"

"Long story sort, the were almost got me, but Mike here saved me, killed the were too. I've been stuck like this ever since." Dean said and pointed to his leg.

"Why didn't you call?"

"With what Sam? Smoke signals? If you haven't noticed, there is no reception here and I... I didn't want... I couldn't send Mike out to try and reach the town. Have you seen the weather?!" Dean said and there was a very subtle blush on his cheeks, one Michael thought Sam hadn't noticed.

"Don't you have a sat phone?" Sam asked Michael and the angel just shook his head. He looked at Dean and pointed towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, sure." Dean replied and Sam frowned at him, unaccustomed to his and Michael's silent conversations. But Michael knew Dean understood that he was excusing himself to go make some tea and also to give them some space, even though he could still hear them.

"What's going on, Dean?"

"I have a freaking broken leg, Sam. What do you think is going on?"

"But, this guy..."

"Look around. Go on. Take a look, what do you see?"

Sam was silent for a a few moments before he gave out a sort of a hum of understanding. "He's a hunter. But why didn't he say anything?"

"I dunno, Sam, maybe because he can't talk?"

"Oh."

"Yeah. And he's been... He's been taking care of me." Dean said in a tone that sounded off. As if he was reprimanding Sam, and Michael had no idea why. But a few minutes later, Sam came out into the kitchen and after he spoke, Michael understood why Dean said it the way he did.

"Hey, um... Mike. I'm Sam, Dean's, um... Brother." He said and seemed to want to offer his hand, but since Michael had his hands full of setting up the tea bags, sugar and creme, he just gave him a sheepish smile and brushed his hands over his jeans. "Um... Listen, man, I am sorry for... You know, all that back there. I was just... Worried about Dean." Michael nodded and Sam continued. "And I wanted to say... Thanks. For... Saving him and everything." Michael nodded again, this time offering a small, tight smile.

Sam nodded back, then took it upon himself to carry the tea tray. As he entered the room, Sam set on the bed, and Michael paused only for a second, glancing at him, then at the recliner chair before going to sit on it.

"So, what do we do now?" Sam asked raising his brow at Dean. There was a silent communication between them as well, something Michael interpreted as if they had more important things to handle and this thing with Dean's broken leg was a mayor setback. "If we could get you to the bunker, Cas could heal you." He added and neither noticed how Michael winced at the mention of the angel.

"Maybe you should go get him?" Dean offered, and Michael barely contained his smile. If Sam went, he would get to spend a few more days with Dean alone.

"No, that would take too long. If we could just get you to the town, I could drive us to the bunker." Sam said, deep in thought if how they could handle this. Dean was about to protest, but Michael didn't know if it was about Sam staying with them or about Sam driving his car. "Do you think I could get search and rescue up here?" Sam cut Dean off. "Naw, they wouldn't come unless you're critical." Sam mused.

Dean kept glancing at Michael, but the angel tried hard to remain neutral. He didn't know if Dean wanted Sam to know what was happening between them, and with Sam here, they wouldn't have a chance to talk. Or for Dean to talk, anyway.

"You think the two of us could carry him?" Sam suddenly asked, looking back at Michael, startling him. Dean was frowning, but didn't say anything and it was clear it was up to Michael. So he gulped, then nodded, suddenly feeling sad. "Great, then it is settled." Sam said. Michael drew his attention pointing at his wrist and making a full circle with his finger.

"What, time? What about it?" Sam asked.

"He is saying it is too late to leave now, we would have to do it in the morning." Dean translated, his eyes still firmly staying at the angel not wanting to look away.

Dean fell into a bad mood after that, and Michael didn't know what to do about it. Normally, he might try to comfort him, but didn't know how he should act in front of Sam. The two of them spent a while in the kitchen, preparing dinner, Sam asking a bunch of little irrelevant questions and Michael trying to answer them as best as he could. When they walked back into the bedroom with dinner, Sam once again sat on the bed, while Michael had to take the chair. There was still a blanket on it, one he used when he first saved Dean and he draped himself with it, feeling cold.

Dean said nothing, but kept looking at him with a dark expression, one Michael could not read. 

When the bed time finally arrived, Sam went to the bathroom and Michael hoped Dean would say something, tell him what would happen to them now, but Dean remained silent, for the first time that day not looking at the angel. It made Michael feel sad and discarded. It was typical, wasn't it? Everyone used him for their own needs then left him behind.

He and Sam switched places and Michael quickly finished up, thinking things through. Why would he even go there, into the bedroom? There wasn't enough room for him there anymore. He would sleep on the chairs in the kitchen. He bowed his head and sighed, remembering he had to go and find a blanket at least, he couldn't rely on his grace to keep him warm. When he came out, Sam and Dean were arguing and he was too curious not to try and hear what it was about. Besides, he needed that blanket.

"What do you mean I can't sleep in the bed? It is big enough for both of us, and we shared before. Don't tell me you're suddenly bed-shy." Sam said towering over Dean.

"You are taking the chair Sam. You can do it for one night. Besides, you slept on worse." Dean insisted.

"But if I take the recliner, where will Mike sleep?" Sam asked, looking irritated.

"The same place he was sleeping the last few nights. Right here, with me."


	22. Me too

"Wwwith you?" Sam stuttered, clearly surprised. He turned and glanced at Mike, then looked back at Dean. Dean felt something rise inside of him, some strange anger he shouldn't be feeling towards Sam, but the man looked and sounded so much like John, disapproving and disappointed and Dean... He just wouldn't allow himself to hide away and nod and say 'Yes, sir!'

So he gestured for Mike to come close, he took the man's hand in his and looked back at Sam with so much spite as he said "Yeah, with me. Got a problem with that?"

Sam froze for a moment as he took in Dean's expression, their joined hands and the fact that Mike wouldn't meet his eyes, before his eyes grew soft with a hint of hurt behind them.

"No, Dean, of course I don't have a problem with that..." and they both knew neither was really talking just about the bed sharing anymore. "... I just didn't realize... I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

All fight drained from Dean as he watched his brother become smaller than a grain of sand, sorrowful and apologetic. He might behave like John sometimes, but he wasn't him.

"It's alright, Sammy, I know you didn't mean it. It's just... It's different, you know." Dean said and Sam nodded, probably thinking that was because Mike was a guy. Maybe that was for the best, Dean thought. Sam didn't need to know Dean never felt anything like this towards anyone ever before. He glanced back at Mike, and all he could see was so much support and adoration, it was nearly overwhelming.

And he knew he couldn't let them fall apart.

So he turned towards Mike, clasped the otger hand over their joint ones and took a deep breath.

"I know... I know this, what we have is still... New and not really solid, and God! I don't want to be selfish..."

"You should." Sam interjected and Dean threw him a small smile.

"Yeah, alright, maybe I want to be selfish for once... Mike, when we go to the town tomorrow, would you... Would you consider coming with us?"

Mike gasped and Dean couldn't help but squeeze his hand, hoping to get a messenge across that he really really wanted him to come.

"I know... We are in some heavy shit right now, and I don't want to drag you into it, but I don't... I can't let you go. I can't..." Fuck, there were tears gathering in his eyes, and hell no, he wasn't going to be some crybaby, so he tried to blink them away as he focused on Mike.

The man looked so stunned by the offer, looking with disbelief from Dean to Sam and Dean had to glance at his brother to make sure he too had an inviting/hopeful/agreeing expression, which, of course, he did. Dean focused back on Mike, his eyes pleading him to agree to come, agree to stay with Dean.

Mike's eyes were wide and scared and the man was frozen staring that Dean, and just as the hunter started to think he pushed too much, that maybe Mike didn't want him, the man gulped so loudly, Dean thought it must have hurt his throat doing it. He watched, mesmerized as Mike kept opening his mouth, gulping for air and closing them to swallow, then licking his lips to wet them and opening his mouth all over again. It seemed as though he was trying to say something, to force himself to talk, and Dean knew there was a possibility, he heard him before.

"...Eeeees..." came out as a whisper through a breath, barely audible, but certainly there. Dean grinned widely at him, breathing out a few times in relief, and having it come out as breaths of laugh.

"That a yes?" He asked, and after Mike nodded, Dean pulled him into a tight hug.He let him go, just a bit, just enough to press his lips against the man's. He could hear Sam clear his throat, but he didn't fucking care.

Mike had such a small, shy, sheepish smile on his face when Dean broke the kiss, Dean just wanted to kiss him all over again.

"Alright, I am ready to go to sleep now... It has been a long day..." Sam said. "I'll take the recliner." He sad with a smile, then pointed a finger at Dean. "Keep it PG, alright?"

"Hey, why are you telling me?" Dean asked faking an appalled face.

"Because I know you." Sam said and settled in the recliner. Mike went ahead and put on a movie for them to watch, getting a hum of approval from Sam and a snort of annoyance with a coughed "suck-up" from Dean at his choice of the movie. Stigmata was a very biblical/religious/slight surreal movie, and Dean just knew Sam liked it, even if he found it boring.

When the movie ended, it was Mike who got up and turned off the lights, crawling back into bed with Dean, and the hunter felt so good, so fulfilled, he had a permanent smile plastered on his face.

A few minutes later, there was a light humming filling the room and then a voice whispered "Oh, Dean... Feels so good..."

"Cut it out Dean!" Sam yelled.

"It wasn't me... Aaaaooo... Saaaaam. Mike pinched me." Dean shouted and whined, to which Sam commented:

"I like him already..."

...

...

...

"Me too..."


End file.
